Heart of Hades
by FreelySheRoams
Summary: A mandatory team bonding trip turns into a sadistic game of cat and mouse with people who know their worst fears, and will stop at nothing to get what they want. The only way to survive is for the team to learn how to trust each other again, for time doesn't stop ticking when you're in the depths of hell. (A Team Fic) Warnings: Strong Themes, Sexual Situations, Violence.
1. Incipere

**Please read authors note! =)**

 **A/N I do not own Criminal Minds! This is a team fic, which will be slightly AU, and I am taking liberty to mess with the timeline of the show for plot purposes. Also, this is something I am writing to challenge myself with, so I will not be holding back with dragging these characters through the ringer.**

 **Warnings: This is a Very Mature Story that will deal with Strong Themes and Sexual Situations. It will be Violent and there will be Triggers.** _ **If this is not your cup of tea, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read.**_ **Without further ado…**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Prologue: Incipere

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."- Oscar Wilde

* * *

Very few things troubled the tenacious woman, but the cold prickling fear that surged down her spine – churning in the pit of her stomach – left her second-guessing her instincts, and fighting the urge to pick at her nails.

For the tall, brooding man with the fitted three-piece suit, and raven eyes that could chill bones, had swept into Quantico unannounced, with orders from the top tier of the government. His demanding presence had grated her nerves, and the two-hour reprimand had left her shaking in her seat. She had done her best to bite her tongue and keep herself in check, though her shoulders were now knotted with tension and that nagging migraine, which had yet to be eased from a double dose of Aspirin, proved that it had been an exhausting feat.

Slumped in her chair, she flipped through the stack of files once more; silently cursing the agents residing a few floors below her office, only to be jarred out of her petulant thoughts from the flashing red light. Harshly slamming her manicured tipped nail on the speaker button, she then tightly squeezed the bridge of her nose – hoping to quell the exhaustion from her eyes.

"Yes?" came her clipped, apathetic response.

"They've…j-just arrived," her secretary stuttered out; obviously still shaken by her boss' earlier outburst. "Ma'am."

Having already lost her patience and pleasantries that morning, she hastily ended the call, and then took her time buttoning up her navy-blue blazer. Running her hands down the linen fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles, as she furtively glanced at the locked drawer near the bottom of her desk.

Swallowing, feeling that gnawing impulse to reach inside, and take a calming sip from those little glass bottles – filled with liquor and mounting guilt – which she kept safely hidden away.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she caught sight of the mahogany mantel clock, and stormed her way towards the elevators. The clicking of heels on linoleum, ricocheted down the empty halls like sharp bullets – fueling her nervous energy, as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation.

It was no secret that the Section Chief and the members of the BAU have notoriously not gotten along, but this time – oh, this time, the gavel of repercussions, was going to leave an inferno of destruction in its wake.

And though, Erin Strauss enjoyed sipping on a Boulevardier cocktail while drama unfolded around her – having always received a high from watching people squirm beneath her stern, frigid gaze – she, however, had no desire to address this damaging situation.

* * *

Penelope Garcia, was a technical analyst – the cream of the crop, if anyone were to ask – so she usually stayed locked away in her lair, and rarely ever traveled with her teammates. Though, she was pretty certain that the suffocating silence, which had infused the long hours on the jet, the stuffy trip in the SUV's, and even this short elevator ride – was an anomaly of sorts.

However, if she were being honest with herself, then she had to admit that the last few months had revealed that there was a crack in their unity. The team was fractured from a seeping open wound that hadn't fully healed; throbbing with an infection, poisoning the bloodstream, and though nobody had mentioned it – it was affecting their work and worse, ruining their relationships – one bitter argument at a time.

Though, she was absolutely not fond of change, and wanting to remain in her blissful world of ignorance for a while longer, she had kept her discerning observation to herself. Bouncing from neon stiletto-to-stiletto, looking around the cramped, fluorescent space – she had to take a few, calming breaths to will the hot tears from slipping down her cheeks.

Feeling her throat tighten, she was grateful when the bell finally chimed, signaling their overdue arrival. Trying to adjust her purse, she teetered precariously, only to grip her laptop bag and roll her heavy, fuchsia suitcase towards the glass doors. Ignoring the sharp pang in her chest, as Morgan ignored her by briskly walking to his desk and plopping down in a heap of anger.

This case had been torture – wearing everyone's nerves down to jagged points; leaving the team battered and bruised.

She jolted and squeaked, when both Rossi and Hotch's doors slammed shut – those two had gotten into a heated debate on the way back, that hadn't quite simmered down yet – causing her to bump into Emily; who huffed in irritation, before heading towards the break room to pour herself some putrid caffeinated muck.

Considering the taller woman had just survived a bullet graze to the side of her skull, Garcia's compassionate nature, let it slide; not having energy for such trivial things.

Taking a few steps towards JJ, only to receive a meek smile in response – wondering who she was calling, as she quickly turned around, whispering into her phone.

The coiling knot of dread, fluttered once more – twisting her insides; feeling helpless, since she could only stand by and watch her family crumble around her.

Noticing a presence next to her, she gave her Boy Wonder a thorough once over – trying to find any presence of pain in his posture or facial expressions. "How's the arm?" she croaked out; embarrassed, she tried to clear her throat.

Reid held up the white cast around his wrist and slowly moved it around – thankfully it was only a fracture, but he wasn't taking anything stronger than Tylenol; which had her sore heart concerned for him.

"Spencer?" she mumbled, stepping closer.

"Fine," giving her a curt nod.

She had expected a statistical rant about the anatomical structure of bone density and the first medical use of a cast – only to be shocked when he gave his simple response and walked away; leaving her standing all alone in the sterile hallway.

Looking up, she caught Morgan's narrowed gaze; feeling overwhelmed she glared right back – not in the mood to deal with his Adonis attitude.

Shifting her luggage around; Penelope was about to head to her lair, where she could shut out the world until she found the strength to go home, only for the elevator to ping once more. Turning around, she bit back a groan when Strauss walked towards her, looking frazzled and pissed off.

 _Oh, frick!_

"Chief Strauss," she chirped, hoping her voice sounded more enthusiastic – though, highly doubtful.

"Gather the team," came the gruff demand.

Penelope fought rolling her eyes, and though exhausted, she had to stifle a giggle when she wondered if the BAU Chief would melt if she were to get splashed with water.

"Yes, Ma'am," she headed towards the bullpen, stopping briefly. "May I ask what this is about?"

"We're having a meeting," the older woman's brows were furrowed, clearly not here on friendly terms.

Penelope nodded, tottering away, only to stop in her tracks.

"It's a mandatory trip. For everyone."

* * *

Looking out the tinted window of the black Sedan; raven eyes scanning his surroundings – consciously aware of everything.

"Did it work?" the guttural voice from the driver's seat sputtered, irritated by the smoke of the man's cigar.

"Would I be here, if it didn't?"

"When do they arrive?" turning the car back on, cracking the windows – grateful for the fresh air.

"Two days," the younger man turned, blowing hot air into his companion's face. "This time..." eyes narrowing into angry slits. "Don't fuck it up."

To be continued…


	2. Caelum

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the support, it is greatly appreciated! This might be a little confusing, but you know me, I love flashbacks and things shall eventually be explained!**

 **Warning: Strong Violence & Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades  
**

Chapter I: Part I Caelum

" _Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die."- Joe Louis_

* * *

The putrid stench of copper and piss lingered in the hot, stagnant air of the concrete room. Windowless and dark; time was but a concept that held no merit – seconds crawled into minutes, swallowed bitterly into hours as the days drifted away; taking with it, the last remnants of hope.

The swinging light flickered to life; dousing the room in harsh yellow, blinding the three occupants – still strapped in the wooden chairs, facing each other.

The sound of heavy boots; dragging against the floor, caused the youngest to whimper – tears rolling down her checks, blending with the caked blood from her split lip.

"Lucy," his voice, like broken asphalt, rung out with hollow amusement – serrated scar; from ear to mouth, rippled into a menacing grin.

"No…please," the older woman begged; muffled through the dirty cloth wrapped around her mouth.

Clucking his tongue in disapproval, he stepped closer; crouching behind the chair – wrapping a muscled arm across the girl's waist; sliding a rough hand underneath her blood-soaked tank top, until it rested beneath her breasts.

Lucy; red curls matted to her face, clamped her eyes shut – squirming against the brute force of the man who consumed her personal space.

"Shh," he cooed softly; staring at the pair across the room – palming her breast; squeezing, as she cried out. "Time is…up."

"No," the older man croaked, only to cough; sputtering as blood covered his teeth – trying once more to yank on the restraints.

"She had a choice," he hissed out, standing up and walking to the center of the makeshift triangle.

"Fuck you!" the man gritted out, receiving a sharp blow to his gut – his wife screaming in horror.

"Stop it! You're hurting him," she begged.

"Like he hurt…Lucy?" the taunt was like a slap to the face, and she could only look away – silent tears the only answer he needed.

"You had your chance," turning towards the red head, kneeling in front of her. "To tell him, what he did to you!"

"He didn't…" the blade was on her cheek in an instant.

"What did we say about lies, Lucille?"

"I'm not…" the blade dug into her pale skin; easily slicing the soft flesh.

Her scream was drowned out by the harsh grating of metal, as the door slammed open.

"Alexei!" the man in the suit barked; eyes blazing with fury. "Stop fucking around."

The man stood to his full height, broad shoulders coiling with tension. "I'm not finished."

"We don't have time," stepping fully into the room until he stood next to the table; briefly glancing at the open files of Lucy and her parents. "Finish it…or I will."

"God, no…no, please!" the older woman cried, tears streaming down her face.

The silver revolver glistened as the young man waved it around; reaching into his pocket, revealing the finality of golden bullets – smirking as the wave of fear washed over the trio. Power was an addiction in the hands of a madman – a criminal quality that he reveled in, as his body pulsed with heated arousal.

"Heads or Tails," his thick accent was guttural as he loaded the gun, spacing the three bullets; spinning the cylinder – taking a deep breath as it clicked closed.

Patience thinning, he looked over at Alexei – they had a job to do and another to get ready for and as much as he wanted to play with this family, especially the petite little red head; who wasn't really his type but sure was pretty darn cute – there were orders, and he wasn't in the mood for another lecture on how to do his job.

Alexei grunted; pulling out an old copper coin, rolling it between his fingers.

The man with the gun stepped closer, walking around the outside of his prey; like a tiger waiting to pounce.

"Pick one," when he received no response, he raised the gun, aiming it at the center of Lucy's forehead. "Pick."

"No! Please, let her go!" her mother's cry; desperate and helpless.

"Please…I don't…" choking on her strangled sob, Lucy could only look away. "Tails," a whisper and a death sentence.

Alexei tossed the coin, catching it and slamming it on the back of his palm – grinning callously with excitement.

The shot rang out; ricocheting off the walls like an explosion – blood splatter covered the girl as she screamed, bucking violently against the seat; trying to get away from the image of the gaping hole in her mother's head.

"Mommy," she cried, gasping for breath. "Mom."

"Oh, Lucille," Alexei tutted, glaring at her stepfather – whose eyes were wide, body frozen in fear.

The young man chuckled. "You know, I didn't think that would work the first time."

"All you had to do," Alexei kneeled once more in front of the terrified girl, cupping her face as his thumbs wiped away the tears. "Was tell her, what he did to you. When she was gone, and you were all alone…with him," his voice had dropped to a dangerous level.

"Potoropis!" the demand was a warning; forcing Alexei to stand back up, glaring at his partner.

"Po'shyol 'na hui," he gritted out, rolling the coin once more.

"Heads or tails?"

The girl shook her head; blinking away stars as her vision blurred from the force of the gun hitting the side of her head.

Alexei flipped the coin, slamming it down on the back of his hand – waiting to reveal it.

"Lucy," the young man cooed, wiping the hair out of her eyes with the barrel of the gun. "Pick."

She gurgled incoherently, eyes glazed over as her head rolled back. Leaning closer he asked once more, grinning when he stood back up.

"Tails."

Two clicks – and then a shot.

* * *

Even though they were in two vehicles, the black SUV's were still very cramped – sweltering heat, dampening everyone's already foul mood.

Hotch gripped the steering wheel; still twenty miles left in their three hour drive. The dirt road was barren; thick forest surrounded them on both sides; driving them further away from civilization.

Reid was sitting behind Hotch; already on his third book, much to Garcia's amusement next to him. The normally bubbly tech had tried to pick one up and read it herself, only to joke that she had gotten car sick a few pages in, though Strauss was pretty certain the younger woman had gotten bored reading about the _Richter magnitude scale and how seismometers work_. The BAU Chief had drifted asleep when the genius had rattled off excitedly about the signed hard copy.

Leaning forward, Garcia cleared her throat. "Um, Hotch…Sir?"

Strauss watched from the mirror; having flipped the visor down to fix her bangs – eyes narrowed in curiosity; knowing trust had been broken between the pair. Catching how the blonde, with her sparkling barrette looked quickly away when she caught his eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Yes, Garcia," his tone respectful, always the professional.

"How much farther?" squirming in her seat, and Erin had to fight the small grin that strained against her pursed lips – she too needed a restroom break since about the halfway point.

"Another twenty minutes or so," Reid answered, never looking up from his book.

"Oh, thanks," she smiled, though he wasn't paying attention – rather he looked up from the dog-eared page and frowned at Erin.

"I still don't understand how this is supposed to help us?" the Chief looked out the window, willing back the migraine that hadn't fully faded between her eyes as the agent spewed out statistics on team bonding and what was proven to work.

How she got stuck forcing this group of ragtag federal employees to work on their ethics and communication, she thought haughtily to herself, was beyond her – cringing when his raised voice became frantic, trying to tune it out and wishing she had sat in the other SUV that was following them.

* * *

"Honestly, this is bullshit," Prentiss grumbled from the backseat, dark eyes glaring at the SUV in front of them. If she had to look at one more fucking tree…

"Tell me about it," Derek agreed from the passenger seat in front of her. "I don't get why we have to go. Our case work hasn't been compromised."

JJ had been listening intently to the conversation around her, but the more they talked – the more agitated she became. If they couldn't see the jagged edges marring the blurred lines of their team, this trip was going to be one hell of a time.

"Why is she even with us?" JJ fought rolling her eyes at Emily's accusations. She was coping; her ability to compartmentalize was a little murky, leaving her emotions exposed as she lashed out.

"Em," JJ tried to soothe, putting a hand on her knee to comfort – masking her hurt when Prentiss pulled away, shrinking further into her side of the SUV.

Rossi cleared his throat, about to voice something about Strauss – which JJ assumed involved the relationship she suspected was going on between the older pair, only for him to let out a string of expletives instead.

"Son of cagna!" slamming on the breaks, hoping to avoid the debris from the SUV in front of them.

JJ eyes widened in horror, as the front tire from the SUV; holding the rest of the team – blew out; sending a gust of smoke trailing behind the vehicle as it swerved, spinning across the road, only for the passenger side to slam into a tree.

"Oh my, God!" she screamed; arms flying out in front of her to save her face before she hit the back of Rossi's headrest.

Morgan was already unbuckling his seat belt – sprinting across the road, before she even thought to grab her cell phone to call emergency services.

Trying to hold back her tears, as the mangled heap of metal twisted cruelly around the sturdy trunk of the massive tree.

"Fuck," was all Prentiss could say, before following Morgan outside.

JJ felt trapped, palms sweating as she tried to control her breathing – paralyzed with fear, a litany of prayers ringing in her ears. Gasping for breath she was startled out of her shock at the knock against the window, Rossi's face; fear masked with trained professionalism – opened the door, gathering her in a hug.

"You okay?" rubbing her back.

"Y-Yes," she croaked out, eyes landing back on the SUV – pushing against him, fire burning in the blue depths of her concerned eyes.

"Are they…okay?" he didn't respond right away, and she felt her stomach drop; churning with acid.

"Come on," grabbing her hand, they made their way to the wreckage.

 _Please, God!_

Hope, the only thing, she could do.

To be continued...

* * *

Chapter Title - Caelum: Sky, Heaven

Potoropis: Hurry up

Po'shyol 'na hui: Fuck off/Fuck you (Rude)


	3. Oculi

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! I had an explanation on the real reason why my updates have been lacking recently but no one needs to be bummed out with that - and besides the problem has already been remedied, so what I really want and should be saying is that, you all are very, very kind and lovely supporters and I just want to let you all know that I greatly appreciate it! So, thank you! (And just stick with me on this very long journey that this story is going to be, it will all make sense...I promise!)  
**

 **Warning: Strong Violence & Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter I: Part II Oculi

 _"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." - Tom Stoppard_

* * *

 _The jagged metal; scratched and dented – across the doors of the cobalt blue '77 Pontiac Trans Am, seemed to taunt the young teenager._

 _Kicking the front tire with his red high tops; mind racing with logical solutions, only to be muddled by the panic now coursing through his veins – and even though his face was heated; ears burning from his stupidity and fear of consequences, he couldn't help the shudder that rippled through his gangly body from the crisp, chill of the morning dew._

 _Brushing his shaggy chestnut hair out of his face, which constantly covered those dark whiskey eyes that held a wisdom too mature for his age – he glanced around once more; his quick panting breath, the only companion to his thudding heart._

 _Dogs started to bark; probably from the continuous horn that could be heard blaring in the distance and the rather slim chances the teen had of making it back inside the house and upstairs to the safety of his room, was diminishing by the minute. Groaning when the streetlamps flickered off with the onset of the rising sun; revealing pristine lawns ready for a typical suburban Sunday._

" _Dads, gonna kill you!" the harsh whisper; with just the slightest air of smugness, startled a strangled and embarrassingly pitchy yelp from his thin lips._

 _Wiping sweaty palms against his torn denim jeans; he turned around to glare at the young boy._

" _What are you doing out of bed?" the oldest, and always so…responsible._

" _You didn't come home last night," he tutted, bouncing from slipper to slipper in his flannel pajamas._

" _I was…," looking back at the car. "Busy."_

" _He's been waiting up for you," glancing quickly towards the house. "Had a few drinks too," and though his brother had been amused earlier, he was nothing but concerned now._

" _Damn," he wasn't one to swear, but the slamming of the front door had sealed his fate._

 _ **HOTCH!**_

" _Get inside…Sean," voice gruff, and slurred. "You ain't…supposed to be…outta bed!"_

 _The blonde boy; bottom lip quivering, bravely took a step in front of his older brother, only to jump back from his father's command._

" _Now!" he growled, dark eyes bristling with anger._

" _Aaron?" bright blue eyes; just like their mother's, were storming with fear._

" _Go…it's okay," forcing a smile, bracing for the worst._

 _Sean took a few deep breaths, doing his best to square his ten-year-old shoulders as he ran past their father and back into the house._

" _The fuck…were you, boy!" unshaven and glossy eyed with a stained white tank and leather belt, loose around his work pants – his father was every 6 feet and 5 inches of menacing brute._

 _ **HOTCH!**_

 _Head snapping to the side; catching a pungent whiff of liquor._

" _I asked you…a question."_

" _I'm s-sorry," throat constricting; willing the prickling tears to stay back._

 _Making the mistake of shuffling to the side; hearing the sharp intake of breath – he could only clamp his eyes shut at the string of expletives._

" _Why you…stupid little fucker!"_

 _The blow to the side of his face wasn't a surprise, but the impact of his head slamming into the cold metal of the car was jarring – sending a shooting pain down his neck and into his shoulders._

" _Who said…you could drive…my car!" he growled; fingers grasping the soft cotton of Aaron's shirt as he yanked him back and forth. "Who!"_

" _N-Nobody…I didn't, I just…" mumbling through the splitting headache._

 _He had wanted to impress the cute girl – the one he had joined the theater club to impress, despite the constant teasing from his friends. The girl with the toothy grin and sparkling eyes that had him trip over his sneakers in the middle of the cafeteria; spilling his food all over himself, only to land flat on his face._

 _She had giggled, along with everyone else; though she was the only one to cross the room, and help him up._

 _And that's when he had the great idea to borrow the car to really impress her. Deciding to take her to a drive-in movie; saving up money for two weeks so he could afford tickets and treats – and though his father's temper was directed at him, he couldn't help but to smile._

 _Because…_

 _Haley Brooks had kissed him on the cheek…and as his head slammed into the hood of the car once more; mouth coated with the acerbic taste of iron, left eye already swelling – Aaron knew, if he had the chance, he would risk it all over again._

 _Though as his stomach churned; nausea gripping his senses, it became a little harder to remember the joy he had felt just a mere two hours ago, especially since his back had gotten pinned into the crater dent; between the two doors – scratching his back as his shirt lifted._

" _You, stupid fuck!" his father's large hand smacked him across the face – this time splitting his son's lip. "Look what you did, Aaron. You can't do anything right!"_

 _ **HOTCH!**_

 _His knees locked and he slumped forward; finding it odd that he could smell smoke, ears ringing with that annoying car horn, that just wouldn't stop!_

" _ **Can you hear me?"**_

 _Vision blurring, he tried to focus on the older man's face; letting out a chuckle when his father sounded, rather feminine. Almost like…a girl?_

" _ **Come on, wake up!"**_

 _Fingers dug into his chest, shaking him harder.  
_

" _Stop it…please!" Aaron, croaked out._

 _God, just don't move him anymore; the urge to vomit was getting stronger – forcing him to gasp for breath._

 _ **HOTCH! OPEN YOUR EYES!**_

" _Dad?" confused, he tried to push away._

 _Aaron's vision fractured into spirals of prickling sensations – color and sound melding into a disjointed conglomerate of pain; his neural synapses working overtime, trying to piece together a broken puzzle._

 _ **AARON, PLEASE…WAKE UP!**_

 _That voice he recognized…a deep feminine drawl; soft yet, demanding._

 _Emily?_

 _Darkness engulfed him, followed by a blinding white light – revealing his father; eyes narrowed, hand raised to swing once more and his body convulsed._

And he finally woke up.

The memory washed over him like a cold glass of water – making him wish he could go back to sleep.

Pain ravaged his body and he couldn't help but to groan. Blinking rapidly, he tried to take a deep breath only to breathe in blood – sputtering, nearly choking; relieved when a hand rubbed soothing circles on his back.

Opening his only good eye, finding the concerned dark gaze of Prentiss staring back at him.

"Hey," though her eyes were glistening, her smile spoke volumes. "You're awake!"

"W-What," looking around, catching sight of smoke billowing out from the front of the SUV.

"Hey, don't move!" clipped professionalism barked back at him, and he internally rolled his eyes at her emotional avoidance.

"Prentiss," doing his best to remind her that he was still in charge, and he wanted answers.

Though he lost his chance for inquiries as the gurgled groan forced his attention to the right; causing his lungs to seize and gasp for air that was thick with ash – engulfing his body in panic, as he took in the chaos around him.

Slumped over in the passenger seat, Strauss' fair skin was a hue of pallor that Hotch didn't need any medical expertise to know was a huge indicator that something was terribly wrong. Lowering his gaze, his stomach flip flopped – quickly pushing Prentiss aside as the acidic burn flooded his throat; vomiting that mornings breakfast.

"Look at me Baby Girl!" came Morgan's growl behind him.

Aaron's mind was racing; remembering Garcia was in the backseat behind the Unit Chief. Fumbling with his seat belt; much to Emily's protest, he struggled to stand up – but he needed to get out; feeling claustrophobic and…selfishly needing a moment to be ignorant of his team's suffering.

For the crushing guilt was almost suffocating. Aaron was their boss; he was the person driving the SUV, the one who thought it would be a great idea to cut out forty minutes of driving by taking the back roads of Virginia.

Stumbling away from the mangled vehicle; filling his lungs with fresh air, he couldn't help but feel like a major fuck up – his father's taunting voice; a visceral reminder that he was every inch the failure, his old man told him he would be…left him feeling like the sixteen-year-old teenager standing in front of that old Pontiac.

Why that memory seemed so fresh in his mind was beyond him – but it wasn't helping matters, so taking a few pointers from Prentiss, and years of training with the BAU…he shut off his emotions and submerged himself into stoicism.

"Did you...call 911?" he mumbled through nasally pants; clearing his throat with little success. "We need…ambulances."

"You _need_ to sit down," though Emily's thin frame may be deceiving, there was no denying her strength as she gripped his arm to get his attention. "Your airbag didn't deploy and your nose is broken," she narrowed her eyes, head tilted to the side. "And I'm thinking you have a concussion," reaching a hand out, caressing his cheek – looking away, when he stepped back.

"Ambulances," a stern, demanding growl.

"JJ and Reid are on it," avoiding his gaze; staring down the road behind him. "But, they can't get a signal," the small catch in her voice didn't go unnoticed by Hotch; though neither would bring it up.

Following her dark eyes, he caught sight of JJ, who was standing on the hood of the other SUV waving the cell phone around to find service – while Reid; cradling his injured arm, leaned awkwardly inside the driver's seat, fiddling with the two-way radio.

"Fuck!" Morgan grunted inside the vehicle; having taken Reid's spot, which was miraculously undamaged, in order to be next to Garcia.

Whipping around; tension in his neck shooting hot, spearing pain into the base of his skull.

"It doesn't look good," her voice; bare of emotion, was a strangled whisper. "But, we need to get them out."

Noticing the thick, black plumes of smoke were only getting worse; taking a fortifying breath, ignoring his tender ribs, pounding head and throbbing nose – Aaron squared his shoulders and headed back towards the accident; Prentiss following closely behind him.

Reaching the driver's door, he spotted Rossi on the passenger side; squeezed between the tree trunk and the SUV – trying to help Strauss the best he could through the shattered window.

Aaron's concerned whiskey eyes; fluttered shut – saying a quick prayer before glancing back down at the tree branch that was lodged through the door…cruelly spearing the older women's thigh; pooling blood down her grey pin striped slacks.

Thankfully she was still alert, though her unfocused gaze – and incoherent groaning was disconcerting.

Feeling bile rise once more, he looked away – catching Rossi's simmering gaze; silent understanding passing between them.

Taking a deep breath, getting closer; heart thrumming in his chest – he needed to check on Garcia.

Peering over Morgan's shoulders; cursing when he spotted the bubbly blonde unconscious in the backseat.

Sensing his presence; the darker man turned around, arms never leaving her listless form.

"I-I can't…she won't wake up," came Derek's gruff voice; eyes glistening – lost like an abandoned child.

"Morgan," needing them to change places – whispering something to Prentiss; who took off running, he turned his attention back on the broken man.

"Penelope," he murmured; brushing the blood-soaked bangs away from her face – the nasty gash, still oozing dark liquid across her forehead.

"Derek," raising his voice. "Look at me!" grabbing his shoulders. "I need to help Garcia, but I need you to move…okay," hearing footsteps behind him, pulling Morgan out, as Spencer jogged towards them, Emily and JJ not far behind.

"No!" he yelled, struggling against him. "I need to get her out!"

"Derek, she's stuck!" clutching his shirt, forcing the shorter man to look at him. "Her legs are pinned, I need Reid to check her vitals," his eyes widened with recognition; slightly nodding his head and finally, but slowly stepping away – though his amber eyes never left her.

Watching with bated breath as Reid clamored back inside, gently putting two fingers against the pale column of her neck – feeling suddenly overwhelmed; needing control, his instincts took over.

"Prentiss," waiting for her to peel her eyes off of Penelope; briefly wondering when she put her hair into a ponytail. "I need you to help Rossi with Strauss," once she nodded and swiftly headed around the vehicle, he brought his narrowed gaze to JJ – who couldn't seem to settle down.

"JJ," using her name to get her attention.

Feeling guilty when she jumped, grasping the cell phone to her chest – blue eyes wide, but focused.

"I need you to gather the First Aid kits and grab the fire extinguishers," she stared back at him; little panting breaths her only movement.

"Jennifer!" he barked, watching as she took a deep breath; nodding her head with renewed determination – she quickly took off; heading towards the other SUV…only to stop dead in her tracks with Reid's sudden exclamation; one that turned his blood cold.

"Garcia's not breathing!"

To be continued…

* * *

Title Chapter - Oculi: Eyes


	4. Colias Hyale

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Sorry for the slight delay in updates, though I did do a Halloween story with the lovely PolHop, does that count? And I just wanted to thank you all! Y'all are the best readers a writer could ask for, thank you for taking the time to follow, favorite or leave a review!**

 **Please, Enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter II: Part I Colias Hyale

 _"A simple child that lightly draws its breath and feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?" – Wordsworth_

* * *

 _Stark white clouds, that of which only occur after a storm, covered the pink and orange sky brilliantly – creating magnificent shapes and creatures; fueling the young girl's imagination as she enjoyed the warm breeze off the Appalachian Mountains and the cool prickling grass beneath her as she stared up above._

 _Giggling to herself as she spotted a rabbit wearing a top hat; reminding the girl to ask her parents if she could go to the school's talent show next week – having recently discovered her knack for kicking around a hacky sack. It wasn't anything like snobby Gretchen Myer's ballet recital of swan lake, but her grandma had crocheted an original pattern for the soft ball that showcased the blonde's hand and eye coordination and she couldn't wait to show it off._

 _Picking another dandelion; twirling the delicate flower between her nimble fingers only to sit up, make a quick wish and blow the white seeds into the air, mesmerized as they fluttered around and swirled into the wind._

 _The heavy church bells from a few blocks away, swung and chimed six times – causing her bright blue eyes to widen, realizing that she was going to be late for dinner, again._

 _Shooting up, wiping the damp green stains off her yellow sundress, fixing her pigtails before hoping onto her pink stingray bike – sparkling streamers billowing as she pedaled quickly back home._

 _Even though her heart was racing at the thought of being grounded, the strong aroma of daffodils surrounded her, and she couldn't help but to smile – Spring had arrived; a changing season that she absolutely loved._

" _Nice bike!" yelled the familiar, taunting voice of the chubby red headed fifth grader._

" _Yeah, nice bike!" joined his equally obnoxious friend._

 _She glared at the pimply boy and his lanky, freckled counterpart. Her bike was her prize possession – so what if it was a little rusty and some of the spokes were popping out and the cute little silver bell didn't work anymore, it was hers and that's all that mattered._

" _Leave me alone, Ralph!" slowing down just the slightest as she neared the steep hill at the end of her block. "You too, David!"_

" _Gretchen said…you're not singing or dancing…in the talent show," the red headed boy cackled through panting breaths. "How do you…expect to win?"_

" _Like she's gonna win anyway!" squealed David, standing high up on his pedals as he tried to climb the hill, only to give up a few seconds later._

 _Feeling her own lungs start to burn as her calves began to cramp, she jumped off the bike and started to walk the rest of the way._

" _Pssh, already tired!" Ralph grinned, pushing his glasses up his stubby nose. "Such a girl!"_

" _Why dontcha shut up, Ralph!" came another boy's voice; one she instantly recognized – face flushing with the faintest of blushes as she nervously bit on her bottom lip and dared a quick glance back._

 _Spotting the older boy; a Sixth grader – heck, they didn't even go to the same school anymore, smiling back at her with those charming dimples and sparkling green eyes._

" _Hiya, Jenny!" he beamed, easily catching up to the pair; decorated skateboard tucked securely under his arm._

" _H-Hi, Tommy!" she giggled, only to look away embarrassed when the other boy's snorted in amusement._

" _Hacky Sack, right?" shaking his long hair out of his eyes. "I saw you practicing."_

 _All she could do was smile and nod her head._

" _That's cool," flashing his teeth, hopping onto his skateboard once they reached the top of the hill._

" _Sure it is," rolling his eyes, and wiping the sweat off his brow – Ralph glared at the pair, only for his eyes to widen with surprise. "Oh, right on!" dropping his bike on the curb and jogging over to the patch of grass and dirt off to the side.  
_

 _Her curious gaze followed; wondering what caught his attention only to spot it flutter around and land on the blooming purple flower. Smiling wide as she watched its delicate wings open and close – placing her bike down gently, slowly stepping forward only to gasp in horror when Ralph cupped the beautiful butterfly in his palms, and squashed it.  
_

" _Ralph!" she screamed; tears prickling her eyes. "Stop it!"_

" _Hey, get off me!" batting her hands away._

" _You're gonna kill it!" yanking on his backpack as she tried desperately to get him to release it._

" _Knock it off!" Tommy yelled, jumping between the pair; shielding her from being shoved._

" _I need it for my project!" face turning red, as he held the fragile butterfly high above his head._

" _She's crying," David held his stomach as he laughed; finger pointing accusingly at her – causing her to feel a painful mixture of sullen anger and childish._

" _No I'm not!" taking a small step back, though her little chin remained pointed._

" _Just let it go Ralph," growled Tommy, standing to his full height – his recent growth spurt giving him the advantage._

 _Ralph glared daggers at the young girl, pushing his glasses back up only to huff in irritation, "Fine, take your stupid bug!" throwing the pale butterfly onto the ground and stomping away._

 _David rolled his eyes and hopped on his bike. "You're such a baby Jennifer!"_

" _Shut up!" Tommy took a few steps towards them, chasing them away._

 _Dropping down to the soiled dirt, reaching a hand over the barely moving insect – wiping a tear away as she spotted the broken wing; partly bent and ripped._

" _I'm so sorry," she whispered, jumping when a hand gently grasped her shoulder._

" _I got to get going, it's getting late" rubbing the back of his neck and glancing down the street at the two boys still circling the end of the block; intently watching them. "Sorry bout that," putting his skateboard back down, giving her a simple wave. "Good luck at the talent show."_

 _Wiping the sleeve of her cardigan sweater across her damp cheeks, unaware of the sun fading over the horizon, until that familiar voice called to her._

" _Hey, June Bug," the melodic voice of her sister called out to her. "Mom sent me out here to look for you."_

 _Her throat was still tight, nose red and runny, dress now dirty – the butterfly having stopped moving quite some time ago._

" _Jenny," feeling her sit down, and gently twirl one of her tangled pigtails. "What are you doing out here?"_

" _It's dead."_

" _What?" leaning closer, following her gaze to the listless butterfly in front of her._

" _Oh," came her knowing response. "It's your favorite."_

 _She nodded her head and curled in closer, not realizing how cold she was until she felt the warmth radiating off her sister._

" _But look," looking up as Rosaline shifted, gently lifting the purple flower and turning it over. "Little eggs," she smiled._

 _She eagerly and then carefully grabbed the soft plant from her hands, catching site of the bundle of larva underneath the flower and grinned._

" _Babies," she giggled through a new bout of excited sniffles._

" _Come on," Rosaline held out her hand and helped her up. "We can put them in the butterfly garden and watch them grow."_

" _Really!"_

" _Yeah, come on," heading back to the house. "Dinner's getting cold."_

 _Picking up her bike, delicately holding the plant close to her heart, only to look back at the listless mother still on the ground._

" _ **Jennifer**_ _!" came a gargled voice, and she turned around, unable to find her sister._

" _Rosy!" she cried._

" _ **Jennifer**_ _!" carried off the breeze in a different direction, quickly turning around, only to feel a strong grip upon her shoulders that shook her._

Blinking rapidly and stepping back – the memory fading into the chaos around them.

Grasping the butterfly pendant across her neck, anxiously twirling it, only to look up at Hotch.

"What!" she mumbled, tamping down the raging emotions colliding inside of her.

"Emergency kits!" he barked.

She nodded, taking a step away only to catch the back seat partly reclined as Derek pushed Reid out of the way; his injured hand unable to do CPR, and crawled over her best friend – pushing on her chest, closing her nose and forcing air back into her lungs.

"Now!"

Taking off running, grabbing the kits from the back of their SUV, spotting the fire extinguisher and quickly ran back – a cold sense of sobriety washing over her as she returned to the wreckage.

"Here," tossing Reid the kits, only for him to take the defibrillator out, hands shaking as he tried to rip the stickers off the pads.

Snatching them out of his hands, giving him an apologetic look as she got it ready instead – needing something to do, something other than focusing on the fact that her friend was not breathing just five feet away.

Looking up as Hotch sprayed the harsh white foam through the dented hood of the damaged SUV, effectively putting out the flames, though plumes of smoke still billowed out – creating a dark ominous cloud that hovered over them.

"We need to move them!" Emily's frantic voice carried over the warm breeze, and it was only then that she remembered Strauss was also stuck in the front, and guilt started to seep in but just for a second as Derek's demand tore JJ from her thoughts.

"Hurry up Jayje!" he yelled; his faint counts barely heard over the noise of everything else.

Springing to her feet, clambering into the seat next to him, taking a shuddering breath as Derek ripped the soft magenta fabric of Penelope's shirt wide open – revealing that cute velvet demi cup bra they had just bought last weekend on a rare girl's day out.

Passing him the wires as he connected the pads, turning the machine on, waiting for the charge to whirl to life, jumping back as her pale body jolted off the seat, only to slump back down.

"Fuck," he growled, giving her another deep breath as he pressed back onto her chest with another round of CPR.

"I can't stop the blood," glancing towards Rossi's voice who was leaning over the passenger window, his hands covered with the dark crimson of the older woman's blood.

Feeling a heated gaze, she spotted Hotch's determined face staring back at her. "We need to move them, or it's not going to work."

"There's a fucking branch sticking out of her leg!" Emily glared back; teeth clenched as her jaw ticked.

"Clear!" Derek shouted – searching, praying for Garcia's eyes to open, only for them to remain closed.

"Move," Hotch had wobbled over to Strauss, moving past Emily, holding an army knife in his hands.

Having already lost his suit jacket, he quickly got out of his stained button up shirt and handed it to Rossi. "Make a tourniquet around the wound and stabilize the branch," they stared at each other – Dave's concerned wide eyes, briefly untrusting, until he nodded and got to work.

Erin sat up, just enough to shift away, eyes rolling back as she screamed.

"I'm sorry, Cara," his soothing voice doing little for the tender flesh of her exposed wound, though her pale blue eyes sought out his and she nodded.

"Damn it," she mumbled out, fingers gripping the seat handle as he tightened the knot.

Hotch stepped forward, making sure to get her attention. "I'll try to be quick," waiting until she nodded to start cutting though the twisted branch between the small space of the door and her thigh.

"Come on, Baby Girl," Derek's choked sob broke her reverie and she raised the charge, pulling him back as it shocked Garcia again, cursing when nothing changed.

Tense moments ticked by like boiling molasses – a whirlwind of repeated actions that only seemed to get them nowhere but closer to death.

"Got it!" Hotch screamed. "Emily, Dave! Go on the other side and pull her through."

JJ could feel the cold sweat seeping through the back of her shirt, mind swirling with all the risky possibilities; the dire consequences that moving Erin could do. Hell she could have internal bleeding or a spinal injury, but as Penelope's body jolted once more only to remain listless; she selfishly wanted their boss out faster, needing to get her friend outside to properly help her.

Erin's gurgled grunts and painful moans were hard to listen to as they carefully eased her body out of the car, grateful when Prentiss quickly scampered back inside and pushed the button to slide the passenger seat forward – it took a few frantic attempts but the thing finally jostled enough, for Derek to free her legs.

Lifting Penelope out of the car like a delicate flower; laying her down on Reid's coat next to the other SUV, which he had placed on the ground – and JJ had to swallow a few tears as the poor thing kept rapidly prattling off statistics; pacing back and forth as his eyes bounced around, unfocused.

"My bag!" the young agent yelled; stopping to grip his hair, and turn around a few times.

JJ suddenly becoming worried, that he had a head injury, until she understood he was searching for something.

"Reid," watching him shoot back into the SUV.

"Come on!" Derek shouted through ragged panting breath; the muscles in his arm bulging as he pushed his arms into her chest, only to growl at Emily when she tried to step in and help.

"Got it!" Reid shouted, emerging through the mangled mental with his brown leather satchel.

"Really, Spence!" she glared; his books could not be that important right now.

"Derek, stop!" Hotch's soft demanding voice, drew her attention back and JJ found herself shaking her head and stepping forward.

 _No, they weren't stopping, not yet._

"Get off me!" Derek barked, sweat pouring down his face as he leaned in once more to give her a breath, her chest barely rising, and JJ felt the collapsing emotion shoot through her body, unable to stop the tears.

"No, no," she shook her head; dropping to her knees – sharp rocks digging into the soft flesh of her legs.

"Move!" Reid yelled, a strange power to his voice – fiercely unyielding, enough to cause Derek to slow down and look up at him.

JJ wiped her eyes, catching sight of clear liquid and glistening needle.

Kneeling before Penelope; whispering something she couldn't make out as he took a deep breath, and stabbed her – right above the heart.

Gasping, eyes wide, the only thing the blonde could do was clutch the butterfly pendant once more, trying to find the strength to believe as a choked sob broke past her quivering lips.

* * *

To be continued….

Chapter Title – Colias Hyale: Pale Clouded Yellow (Butterfly)


	5. Roseus

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support!**

 **Warnings: Sexual Situations & Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter II: Part II Roseus

 _"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." – Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

Methodically delicate and precise – a manner which was not uncommon for the brute, but which felt callously out of place as his strong hands wrapped the cold lifeless bodies inside the thick sheets of plastic.

Yanking on the ropes around the woman's bruised bare feet, taking a savoring moment to trail his eyes up the torn seam of her stocking; placating his desire to reach a hand underneath her dress as he knelt closer and stared at those murky dead eyes that seemed to still hold judgment. The beginning scent of death his only comfort – easing his fears that the cold, stiff woman could awaken.

Hearing the pacing footsteps and muffled angry words upstairs – informing him that time was preciously still available, making him close the plastic around her chest and tie another intricate knot; leaving her pale face exposed – haloed by her greasy dark hair, dried blood and bits of brain matter from the gaping hole of her skull.

A fascinating image he would never forget.

Reaching into his back pocket, taking out the little black tube and uncapping it – revealing the pretty pink lipstick; a beautiful color that would go nicely with the woman's once nicely tan skin. Tracing her dried cracked lips with his thumb before slowly applying the lipstick; feeling his salacious arousal pulse to life, causing his hand to unconsciously cup himself through his stained denim jeans as he tried to assuage the familiar throbbing ache.

Though it wasn't enough – it never was.

Desperate; the man frantically unzipped his pants, releasing his heated member to the stale chilled air of the basement – strong hands stroking a rough mastered rhythm that quickly brought on his release, spilling himself over the dirty plastic around the woman's face.

A twisted, lewd fetish that was short lived as the door swung wide open, revealing the older man – his suit jacket and tie long gone, buttons undone and sleeves rolled up; a casual look that heightened his glittering emerald eyes and mused sleek black hair.

"Kakogo cherta ty delayesh?" he growled – glaring at the man on the floor.

Alexie huffed in irritation, slowly putting himself back into his pants – his cruel smirk a harsh contrast against the jagged scar across his face. "Cleaning up."

"Well hurry up, Alexei," taking a long puff of his cigar, blowing the smoke into the damp space. "We have a problem."

"You don't say," he chuckled; glaring at the blood stain still covering the cold concrete floor. "You make me clean it up, but don't give me the right shit to clean it with!"

"Zatknis!" propping himself up on the large metal table, flicking lint off his wrinkled shirt. "They had an accident."

"Who Zakhar and Nikolay?" finally covering the woman's face. "The fuck did those two do this time?"

"No, you idiot!" dousing the cigar out on the open file. "The BAU."

The younger man froze, muscles coiling as he stood up – his full height an intimidating sight.

"What happened, Dmitry?" voice low, poised like a cobra.

"The plan worked," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Though a little too well," standing up, pulling out his cell phone – quickly bringing the image of the dirt road and damaged SUV onto the screen. "Three are injured. Two pretty badly."

"We need to have all eight," Alexei sneered. "Look at that!" pointing at the image of the dark man frantically pressing on a woman's chest.

"We need to hurry up," sliding the phone back into his pocket. "Maybe we still have seven to play with?" Dmitry joked and jumped off the table. "Potoropis, we're leaving."

Alexei's own emerald eyes glared after the man – finally taking a calming breath, before reaching for the woman's body and easily throwing her over his broad shoulders and following upstairs.

* * *

" _Are you…still mad?" his hot, panting breath curled a few loose blonde tendrils of her fancy updo; tickling the back of her neck._

" _Y-Yes," she gritted out beneath him; arching further away._

 _Sliding his strong hand up her creamy thigh; underneath the soft satin of her bright floral robe, grazing her bare heated center that was enticingly wet and swollen – causing him to nibble the fleshy curve of her neck and pull her closer to him._

" _Two hours," came her sharp hiss, as she purposely rubbed her ass against his rigid length – earning a growl and swift smack to her plump cheeks in return._

" _I'm sorry, Sweetness," he purred, licking the smooth column of her neck – pressing her lush body further into the back of the couch._

" _Promises, promises."_

" _Spread your legs."_

 _She hesitated just a moment; too caught up in reveling in the swaying rhythm – prolonging the sensual taunt; challenging him every step of the way._

 _His little Goddess was miffed; had every right to be, and was determined on making her point._

" _Spread…your…legs," his voice husky as he whispered over her shoulder, spotting the dazzling earrings still in place – something she only wore for special occasions._

 _When she kept her legs still, choosing to undulate her hips instead – he grabbed her thigh, hooking his fingers underneath the crook of her knee and lifted it over the back of the purple sofa._

 _Wasting no time to plunge fully inside of her; enjoying the scalding, wet heat that fluttered and grasped his throbbing dick – forcing his hips to propel forward; roughly thrusting, needing to assuage that carnal ache spurred by her feminine grunts and explicit words of encouragement._

 _Growling in approval when she arched her back, leaning against the hard planes of his chest – resting her head on his broad shoulder and wrapping an arm around his neck; pulling him closer to lick the salty sweat off the tense muscle, only to trail along his jaw and nibble._

" _Fuck," reaching a hand between her parted thighs, finding that pulsing nerve, and gently circling._

 _She glared, unable to bite back the throaty moan as she licked her glossy pink lips, an invite he couldn't resist._

 _Leaning down, capturing her lips in a tongue tangling kiss – an invasive duel that neither liked to lose. Nostrils flaring when that distinct peachy jasmine aroma flooded his sense; plunging his tongue further – grinning when she tilted her head back and let him lead._

 _Suckling on her slick velvety muscle – teeth clicking, lips bruising as their bodies ground together in a dance they had easily mastered._

 _Pulling away, gasping for air – grinning as her quivering thighs slackened against him; forcing him to hold her up as the first shimmering spasm rocked into her._

" _Oh…oh God!" she groaned; eyes clamping shut, sparkling manicured nails digging into his skin as she clutched the collar of his black button up shirt._

" _Come on, Baby Girl," he cooed softly; cradling her heated body as she panted and twitched against him – sliding a dark arm up between her round, heavy tits until his fingers wrapped firmly around her neck and squeezed. "One more time."  
_

" _I c-cant," she cried, though her hips deceitfully arched back into him. "I…oh, fuck me!"_

 _Pummeling his hips; a deep skillful stroke that quickly sent her over the edge again, and he greedily came with her – spilling hot spurts into her grasping heat, leaning heavily on her as they tried to calm down._

" _Next time…Hot Stuff" she rasped out, "you better not be late."_

 _Peppering her neck with butterfly kisses. "I won't be."_

* * *

The memory was a scornful insult to Derek's exposed emotions – twisting and stabbing the painful knife into his vulnerable state of mind as he held his breath and prayed… _that this time, he wasn't too late._

Though all remained still; his only solace was the ragged thrumming of his beating heart.

"Reid," he choked out – frantically wiping the sweat off his furrowed brow.

"Shock her again," he barked, as he pulled the needle slowly out of her body.

Pressing the button, waiting for the charge - teeth grinding, fists clenched tightly as Penelope jostled again as the electric current coursed through her body.

Without missing a beat, Spencer continued compressions – frantic mutterings mingled with specific counts, closing her nose to fill her lungs once again with air. "Come on, Garcia!"

A soft feminine whimper sounded behind Derek; his keen ears picking up that it was Emily – sensing her pacing behind him as she turned away.

The raven haired beauty; dark eyes glistening with unshed tears, couldn't stare at the harsh purple bruise across her friend's chest or those nasty cuts across her legs through her pretty plum stockings now torn and ripped – the deep gash across her forehead, still oozing blood that had matted most of those lovely blonde curls against her face, would be an image she wasn't likely to forget anytime soon.

Time continued to slink by, cruelly taking with it any remnants of hope.

Taking a shuddering breath, needing space – finding the dense forest, lining both sides of the long dirt road, extremely claustrophobic. Angrily kicking the heel of her leather boot, only to scrape against something jagged and metal.

Peering down, shocked to find a spiked strip buried partly underneath the dirt.

"Hotch!" she called, lifting it up and yanking it free.

Hearing his slow footsteps behind her, she turned around and held it up – watching as those chestnut yes widened only to narrow with simmering anger.

"I ran it over," he whispered, staring at the mangled SUV up ahead, it's blown out tires suddenly making sense – thought it did little to assuage the guilt that hard already seeped into his bones.

"It was buried, you couldn't have seen it," stepping forward, trying to get him to understand, only for him to step back and glare. "Hotch?"

"Someone's coming."

Emily could hear the vehicles behind her, and reached for her gun when two more vehicles came barreling down the other side of the road, effectively blocking them in.

"Hey guys!" JJ's warning voice yelled to them; her gun already pointed – having also caught sight of the discovery of what had caused the accident.

Rossi was still cradling Strass, who was weakly slumped against him, and lifted his leg to take out his back-up gun.

"Clear!" Reid shouted, the little charge coiling the oppressive tension around the team.

The black vans came to a slow stop, tinted windows revealing nothing but faint shadows – causing Emily's gut to churn; leaving an acidic aftertaste filled with fear.

"She's breathing!" Spencer's joyous plea had her spin around – mind forgetting to focus on the target, needing to see it for herself; only to spot a still unconscious Garcia sprawled across the dirt road, though the faint rise and fall of her chest was all the encouragement she needed to steady her gun and aim it at the men who exited the vehicles.

"Drop your weapons!" a thick accent demanded.

"We're with the FBI, I need you to lower your guns!" Hotch's booming voice; suddenly strong and powerful, shouted back.

Emily eye's narrowed at the men all dressed in black; ski masks revealing glittering eyes and eerie smirks – an unsettling confidence that sent warning bells tingling down her spine.

When neither grouped moved, a few men stepped forward, waving the machine guns around and the advantage slowly slipped out of their gasp.

"Open your eyes, Penelope," Morgan's whispered prayer filtering through the heated standoff.

"I said," a tall man; lean but evidently bulky underneath his wrinkled suit, stepped forward, puffing on a cigar. "To drop your weapons."

"That's not gonna happen!" Hotch barked back.

"No?" his mocking laughter, silenced by the flick of his wrist – sending a cascade of gunfire into the air.

"What the fuck!" Morgan shouted, coming out of his state of shock as he pulled out his gun and protectively leant over Penelope, watching as Reid held her limp wrist as he counted her pulse.

"Drop them!"

Emily watched as Aaron's jaw ticked; the blood caked around his lip and bruising around his eye, doing little to mask his authority, but the moment his shoulder's slumped she knew.

The team lowered their guns, huddling closer together – a last defense against the group of men.

"Potoropis! Potoropis!" the man in charge shouted.

Sending two of the taller men towards them. One stepped up to Rossi, who held on to Strauss only to get head butted with a revolver when he resisted, pushing him back as the brute tore her out of his hands – lifting her and walking back towards the van.

"Dave!" JJ shouted; quickly reaching him, as she held a hand to his temple.

"I don't think so!" Morgan gritted out, standing with his gun aimed at the man with shimmering emerald eyes. "You're not fucking touching her!"

The man raised his gun, as did the group around them – the defining clicks, the only noise heard besides Erin's muffled screams.

"Morgan," Hotch warned.

"I'm not leaving her!"

The man cocked the gun, stepping even closer. "Move!" his thick accent clear and threatening.

"She hasn't woken up yet," Morgan's amber eyes blistered with fervor.

"I don't give a shit," firing the bullet, a brutal warning that barely missed Derek's head. "I said, move."

"Alexei!" the man bellowed. "Kontrolirovat' sebya!"

All he got was a grunt in return, going around Derek who reluctantly took a step back – pushing Reid aside, as he easily lifted the blonde – trailing his eyes over her bare belly, fingers coming to rest beneath her velvet bra. Flashing the darker man, a coy, little smirk when he headed towards the van, dropping his voice so only he could hear.

"She's very pretty," a bark of laughter; a cruel taunt, as Derek charged forward, only to be blocked by Spencer's quick reflexes.

"Don't," he murmured. "That's not gonna help Garcia."

Holding onto his shirt, not trusting Morgan to flee and pounce, watching helplessly as they put their friend into the van and drove away.

"Very good," the man lifted his foot, snuffing out his cigar. "Now…put your hands, behind your back."

No one moved, when four men stepped forward – holding burlap sacks and zip ties.

"It's best not," the man waved his hand around, a menacing smirk gracing his strong features. "To resist. Yeah?"

Once their hands were tightly secured behind their backs, faces covered with the thick fabric, they were lined up and marched back towards the awaiting vehicles.

"Welcome BAU," clapping his hands. "We're going to have a lot of… _fun_ together."

* * *

To be continued…

Chapter Title: Roseus – Rose, Pink

Kakogo cherta ty delayesh: What the fuck are you doing?

Zatknis: Shut up

Potoropis: Hurry up


	6. Deterius

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! Let me start off by saying thank you for your support, its always appreciated! Also this is a massive chapter, hope that's okay, I was trying to make up for the long delay in updates. Like most of my stories I know there are always questions, but please know there is a reason for everything, and it will all make sense and will be answered. I promise!**

 **Warnings: Strong Violence and Coarse Language. Deals with an Assault Situation (If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read) Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter III: Part I Deterius

 _"And yet to every bad there's a worse." – Thomas Hardy_

* * *

 _The herbal tea leaves – a sweet, calming blend of vanilla and lavender; swirling around the bottom of her flashy panda mug, mirrored the remnants of the people brooding in the conference room._

 _The calloused scab; formed over a seeping wound of broken trust – exacerbated by coiling nerves of stress and the near possibility of death; a taunting curse that lingered around every twist and turn of their lives…left a foul, bitter mood festering in their guts – churning the stifling, claustrophobic atmosphere as time slowly crept away._

 _Glancing around the room; feeling her sore heart seize with longing to help, a fierce maternal instinct – hating the crinkled frown lines on Hotch's stoic face, or Emily's constant biting of her raw nails and bristling demeanor, or even JJ's taping foot; shoulders tense as she nervously checked her phone every few minutes._

 _Taking a tepid sip of the tea only to remember it was empty, she placed it down in front of her and slowly looked towards her right, only for a sharp twinge to rattle her tender heart once more as she examined the rest of the team._

 _Rossi sat with his hands clasped in front of him; thumbs twisting around each other in agitation, and then there was Reid who had given up sitting twenty minutes ago and was now pacing near the window – and she could practically feel the statistical rants snaking around his every thought._

 _Daring a glimpse over Dave's shoulder; catching sight of that familiar navy blue shirt and a peek of the alluring ink of the lion decorating his bicep – causing a swarm of sensations to tingle down her spine as she chewed on her bottom lip; wanting Derek to look at her but not quite ready to face him._

 _"Garcia!" came the throaty bark – jostling her wandering mind; eyes shooting wide open, nearly dropping the heavy glass in her hands._

 _"Sorry Sir…" face infusing with embarrassing heat at her mistake; the slightest prickle of tears glistening behind her turquoise frames. "I mean…oh gosh, I didn't mean…I'm so sorry Ma'am…" catching Derek's ticking jaw from across the table; she took a deep shuddering breath and forced a timid smile. "Chief Strauss."_

 _"Are you paying attention?" brows knitted and lips pursed – the woman was every ounce of stern professionalism._

 _"Y-Yes…" swallowing her heavy tongue, and quickly reaching for her tablet. "I-I'm listening."_

 _Rossi gave her a sympathetic smile and then glared at the older woman. "Why don't you tell us Erin…what it is exactly we're going to be doing."_

 _"Team bonding exercises," came Reid's quick, assuring voice. "Established to help co-workers create better avenues for communication by working on decision making, time management, and leadership skills," fiddling with a button of his olive argyle vest, turning towards everyone when he was met with silence, finally taking a seat when Hotch arched his brows and shook his head._

 _"My team," Aaron began, turning to face his boss. "Has been nothing but efficient and-…"_

 _"Really, Agent Hotchner," cutting him off; Strauss leaned back in the swivel chair and waved the thick report in her hand. "Because according to this it appears that there are detrimental issues that need to be addressed, immediately."_

 _Emily huffed in irritation; onyx eyes seething with contempt – looking intimidating, even with the bruised graze across her cheek. "We had permission to go inside that building!"_

 _"Prentiss!" Hotch frowned; shoulders tense but wary._

 _"Yes, you all did a marvelous job saving the victim and her children," Strauss sat up; back rigid with authority. "And I'm sure the fact that you had permission, will reassure the family members of the deceased SWAT team that everything is alright."_

 _Garcia cringed; quickly dabbing her eyes, willing the guilty tears back as she remembered the last case – having felt powerless stranded inside the police station, forced to watch the chaos; feeling the impact of the bomb blast behind her computer screens._

 _"That's enough!" Rossi growled, standing up – fists digging into the hard oak of the table. "You don't need to remind us what we lost out there. There was no indication that was going to happen," taking a calming breath. "We followed the rules and reacted accordingly."_

 _Erin's gaze flittered across the room, landing on Morgan with narrowed eyes before staring pointedly at Garcia, who gasped and shrunk into her chair; staring at her heels as she tried and failed to control her sniffles._

 _"This team is not functioning under its full capacity," closing the seven files, and standing up. "It hasn't been since you've all gotten back together," a slight quirk of her lips couldn't be disguised when she looked at Prentiss – a distinct, check mate._

 _"What about our active cases?" JJ piped up, always the voice of reason._

 _"Those will be handed over to other teams, until clearance is granted," adjusting the sleeves of her jacket, making sure to gain back their attention. "I don't want to go on this trip any more than you do. So I suggest you all make use of what they're going to teach you out there," heading towards the door, ending the conversation even as the team erupted with protests – shaking her head; mumbling under her breath. "And the sooner this will all be over with."_

* * *

The whispered chattering; foreign and haunting – infused the cramped vehicle as they sped down the open road.

Morgan tried to keep track of every turn; desperate to memorize the path back to their abandoned SUV's, only to become disoriented and irritable – fueled by the coiling tension simmering under tense muscles as fear brewed the bitter acidity of grief inside his gut.

Feeling remorse – believing to be a failure. Letting his doubt; years of festering anxiety – a stricken panic that his loved ones were never safe with him, fuel the torrid rage that had snuck up behind the shock and scalded the lurking adrenaline as it faded away.

Leaving him feeling like that little Fatherless child who was forced to become the man of the house – demanding him to fight the churning memories that flooded his mind; trying to dominate and destroy his controlled focus.

Taking a shuddering breath; humid behind the burlap sack, arms straining against the zip ties cruelly digging into his wrists – having earned an extra restraint for head butting one of the captors; receiving a swift punch to the gut and a split lip in return.

Then like an abrasive taunt, the image of Penelope flashed through his mind; lifeless in the back seat, laying sprawled on the dirt road barely breathing, had him biting back the nausea that swept through him like a freight train. Leaning back in the seat, trying to collect himself; knowing he needed to prepare for the inevitable, only to spring forward when the van slammed on its brakes as they came to a sudden stop.

Derek froze; straining to listen – hearing van doors open and slam shut, as callous laughter echoed around them.

"Get out!" barked a man; his distinct gruff accent indistinguishable from the rest. "Hurry up!"

Pulling Reid out first who stumbled to the ground; groaning in protest when searing pain shot through his injured arm, only to be lifted by his elbows and shoved aside.

Derek felt Emily stiffen next to him, and bumped her knee in reassurance. "Em, it's gonna be okay."

"Yeah," came her tart reply – though it held no venom, just dull tenacity.

Derek was going to respond when strong hands gripped his arm and tugged him out of the van; propelling him into the metal door as a solid figure clutched his dirty shirt and brought him closer.

"Not such a tough guy now, huh?" the unknown figure chuckled, only to harshly drag Morgan away from the vehicle and down the gravel path.

Though the taunting memory – a ruthless bitter nostalgia; coursed through his veins, making his feet heavy; practically tripping over himself as he reached the porch steps.

* * *

 _The dancing shadows; lit by the blue lava lamp, was hardly comforting as the little boy laid wide awake – dark amber eyes reddened with unshed tears, as he wrapped himself tighter in the old Chicago Bears blanket; trying to seek warmth only to shiver with the lingering chill of his nightmare._

 _Rolling over, slamming his fist into the pillow; glaring at the bright numbers of his alarm clock – groaning when he realized it was nearly two in the morning._

 _Clamping his eyes shut, willing his body into slumber, only for the jarring sound of glass shattering downstairs; followed by gruff expletives, to shoot him up in bed._

 _Throwing the covers over his skinny legs; quickly getting into his plaid robe as he tiptoed over to his door and slowly cracked it opened – shocked to see his younger sister; hugging her dolly and twirling a crooked pigtail, as she stood sniffling at the end of the hallway, near the top of the stairs._

 _"Desi," he whispered; giving her a gentle smile when she quickly turned around – warm chocolate eyes, wide with fear._

 _"What happened?" walking closer, putting a comforting hand on her bony shoulder._

 _"Uncle Robbie," she whimpered; trying to hide behind him when the shouting got louder._

 _"Go back to your room," ten years old, and already taking charge._

 _"No!" she cried, wiping the tears with the dolls dress. "I don't wanna be by myself," eyes furrowed, as she stomped her foot – the smallest but most bullheaded Morgan; right behind Derek, and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes at their uncanny similarities._

 _He had forgotten Sarah was away at her friend's sleepover this weekend, which meant Desiree was attached to his hip._

 _Another glass broke, causing both children to startle and Des to jump behind her big brother; cringing at the heated words from below._

 _"Stay here," defiantly shaking her head; little hands clinging to his arm as he took a few steps away. "I'll be right back, Desi," looking back over his shoulder; towards the dim living room and angry voices. "I promise."_

 _"O-Okay," she sniffled; wrapping her arms around herself as she sat on the top step; face covered by her dolly._

 _Derek squared his shoulders and slowly descended the rest of the way; stopping in his tracks when his mother's exhausted voice, clipped and demanding, cut through the night air._

 _"I didn't ask for your help, Robbie!" her tone was serious; one she rarely used, unless somebody was getting grounded. "And keep it down, the kids are sleeping!"_

 _"Oh come on, Franny," came his uncle's hoarse voice; slurred from drinking all day. "You owe me."_

 _"Who the hell do you think you are!" her voice cracked, causing Derek to step a little farther out of the nook; catching sight of the adults through the archway, standing next to the dining room table. "Ray hasn't even been in the ground for a month, you sick fu-…"_

 _The stinging slap echoed in the dead of night – shooting panic through Derek's shaking body, riveting him to the spot._

 _Guilt oozed like thick tar through his battered soul – thinking of his father, remembering the deep timbre of his laugh and the twinkle behind those deep amber eyes when he would play catch at the park around the corner – only for the crippling pain of his funeral, to rattle his pounding heart and seize his lungs._

 _Quickly wiping his cheek; hating the salty tears that burned his face. He wasn't a little baby any more, wasn't the little boy who begged his dad to take him to the store for his favorite treat. No, he wasn't the kid who had a father – and as he watched his uncle; fist raised to strike once more, Derek felt the anger infuse his body and reveled in the strength of his rage._

 _Though he was still only ten, and his emotions had yet to learn to pull away from the teetering edge of childlike innocence and the stirrings of puberty – leaving him frozen to the spot, as he tried to react._

 _"Get out of my house!" Fran bit back a sob, holding a shaking hand over her bleeding lip._

 _"You need my help Francine!" Robbie stepped even closer, burly shoulders tense – blocking her path. "How do you expect to raise those kids on your own, or keep this house?" throwing a large hand out; indicating the red stamped bills that cluttered the table and smirked. "Raymond didn't even finish remodeling it…hell the whole downstairs has shit insulation. What happens when winter hits?" he chuckled, seeming to bask in the smaller woman's pain._

 _"You know as well as I do, Robert…that your brother didn't get to finish the job," she gritted out, taking a step forward; jaw pointed as she glared up at him. "And don't you dare insult him under my roof!"_

 _"You know…he always said you were feisty," grabbing her face; digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her cheeks. "I wonder if that's also true in bed?"_

 _"Get off of me!" she cried, squirming against him – only for his strong arms to snake around her waist and pull her back against his front._

 _"Shh, shh…" he cooed into the crook of her neck, taking a moment to smell her mahogany curls. "Don't wanna wake the kids up, now do we?"_

 _"You're drunk Robbie," trying to reason; dainty hands scratching at his arms. "Leave, before I call the cops."_

 _"Oh, that's a great idea," hand slowly crawling up her side; fingers grazing the undersides of her breasts – a vile taunt that basked in the control. "Go ahead. Call Ray's friends over," repulsing her by licking the smooth column of her neck. "They've all wanted a piece of this ass for years."_

 _Finding renewed strength; her pointy elbow jabbed him in the ribs, loosening his grip and quickly making it to the entrance of the dining room – eyes widening in shock and embarrassment when she caught the frightened eyes of her son staring back at her, only to scream when Robbie grabbed her hair and cruelly yanked her backwards, slamming her face down into wooden table._

 _"M-Mom!" Derek croaked, hands balled into fists at his side – managing a few small steps forward; hatred coursing through his veins._

 _The metallic clank of his uncle's belt being undone, followed by the hiss of the zipper, had Fran screaming as Robbie easily kicked her legs wide apart – struggling against the brute force as he trailed his hands up her bare thighs, sliding them under the skirt of her pink uniform._

 _"Mommy!" Desiree cried out, coming to stand behind her brother._

 _"Get back, Desi!" Derek yelled, pushing the little girl towards the stairs, only to whip around at his uncle's foul demands._

 _"Stop fucking moving!" the older man growled, lifting Fran up and smashing her back into the table._

 _Making sure his sister was at least halfway up the stairs, before Derek charged into the other room, with terrified fury._

 _"Leave my Mom alone!" he screamed; jumping on top of his uncle – beating his fists into his back; holding on for dear life, when the man reared up and slammed into the wall – brutally knocking the wind right out of him._

 _Jagged stars burst behind his eyes as searing pain shot down his spine; gasping for breath – frowning as a few picture frames fell down, catching the family portrait with his father's grinning face; through splintered glass, staring right back at him._

 _A distant memory that now seemed mocking in the chaos around them._

 _"What the fuck!" Robbie growled, easily throwing Derek across the room. "You better get your little ass upstairs boy," slowly pulling his leather belt out of the loops; his missing teeth fueling the menacing grin that contorted his face._

 _Fran jumped up, protectively standing in front of her son. "Don't you touch him!"_

 _"Get!" he barked, whipping his belt onto the table – sending papers flying to the floor and shattering the glass centerpiece._

 _"Derek," Fran squeezed his shoulders, worried eyes assessing his breathing. "Go, baby, it's okay."_

 _Derek shook his head; back rigid as he squared his shoulders and glared at his uncle – at the man he had once admired._

 _"No," stubborn, just like his father._

 _"You better listen to your Mama, Derek," stepping forward; wrapping the belt around his palm, arching a knowing brow at Fran. "See what happens Franny, when you don't have a man in the house."_

 _Derek launched forward, only to be held back by his mother – whose petite frame managed to push her son through the archway. "Derek Francis, you get upstairs and watch your sister!"_

 _His mother's demand – a harsh betrayal of their close bond; confusing his vulnerable mind – mistaking his mother's maternal instinct for not believing in his abilities as the man of the house; that he couldn't protect his family…though the little boy, had no doubt._

 _Taking a shocking step back, eyes bristling with angry tears as adrenaline ran rampant through his body._

 _"Now where were we," Robbie growled, reaching forward, tugging the pink uniform shirt as Fran pulled back – ripping the buttons and name tag right off; revealing the cream bra underneath._

 _Her body flushed with humiliation; watching as Derek's eyes flew open and quickly glanced away, and even though terror flooded her senses, she couldn't help the warm grin from quirking her lips – she had raised him right; a pure gentleman at heart._

 _"I knew you wanted it, Franny," pulling her towards him, peppering her face with sloppy kisses, only to roar in pain and buck violently against her._

 _"Son of a bitch!" glaring at the bleeding bite mark on his forearm, and the dangerous gaze of the little boy, who stood in front of his mother with pride._

 _"Oh, you're a little tough guy now, huh!" Robbie gritted out._

 _The quick flash of anger; brewing behind those dark narrowed eyes, was the last coherent thing – besides Fran's terrified scream and Desiree's wailing cries, that Derek would remember of that night, as his uncle's large fist pummeled his face and sent him flying back into the chairs._

* * *

The stench of bleach; covering the acerbic odor of blood and piss, permeated his senses through the thick fabric over his face.

Having gone down a flight of stairs blindfolded; constantly bumping into the other team members as they filed into what Derek assumed to be a basement. Making out concrete as footsteps got heavier; and a cold focused draft blew over his head – warning bells going off; as his active mind conjured up the possibilities that temperature could play in this perverse game these men were playing.

"Move!" a man grunted, as Derek dug his heels into the ground, only to be shoved forward and barrel his weight into JJ who yelped in surprise.

The harsh scraping of metal across concrete; jarred his thoughts – quickly closing his eyes when the burlap sack was yanked off, dousing them in fluorescent light.

Derek quickly glanced around, searching for Penelope, only to come up empty – anger quickly twisted into dread; coiling his gut with nausea.

"Where are they!" he growled, stepping forward, only for a rather large man – glittering eyes; a striking contrast of emerald against the black ski mask, to push him back; sending him flying into a metal beam, bursting fiery heat coursing down his back.

"Morgan!" Hotch yelled, stepping between the pair – doing his best to assuage the situation.

"We just want to know where they are," JJ's voice was calm, almost soothing; using her femininity to appeal to their brutish mentality.

A gangly man; awkwardly standing off to the side, twisting the burlap sacks in his hand, "D-Down…the…h-hall.," he stuttered out, balking when a hand shot up to strike.

"Tikho, Pyotr!" a shorter man barked, while another chuckled near the large grate door.

"Get upstairs," the man, leaning against the wall – puffing a pungent cigar; clapped his hands when the younger man hesitated.

Pyotr fumbled; dropping the itchy fabric – quickly picking it up and rushing towards the door, but not before getting a swift slap to the back of his head.

The man with the mesmerizing eyes, held his arms out and slowly spun around – making a show of his warped hospitality. "Welcome BAU," he chuckled, rolling the sleeves of his jacket up – revealing the intricate pattern of tattoos and scars across his forearms.

"Potoropis!" he barked, pearly white teeth flashing behind the mask.

Each member was grabbed and dragged to the other side of the room, and it was only then that Derek discovered the giant kennel cages lining the wall – eight in total, each with an old dingy mattress and thick chains attached to the back.

As the heavy cuffs clicked in place, and the gates locked behind them – heightening the fact that they were together but undeniably separate; a near fatal blow to an already broken team.

Frowning at the lecherous gazes of the men as they took their time locking up Emily and JJ, feeling that anxiety seep into his bones – a haunting reminder; inciting his protective desire.

Taking a deep breath, grateful the men were retreating out the door – obviously intent on leaving them with more questions than answers; a mastered ploy of discomfort.

Needing something to do – hating the helpless feeling, he finally looked around the room and instantly regretted it.

Spotting a shower head hanging in the far corner, next to a large brass water troth – the rusty blood stained tiled walls behind it, a looming element of intimidation. Peeling his narrowed eyes away, only to spot the massive metal table, with files neatly stacked on one end and vicious, jagged tools on the other – swallowing the bile as he noticed the cuff links on each corner; perfect for wrists and ankles.

Finally landing on the other side of the room, the sturdy metal beams; chains dangling like serpents, leading to dried pools of blood, and what he could only guess could be shit and piss.

Nostrils flaring, tuning out the heated conversation of the team around him – allowing his mind to drift to the only shred of hope he had left; praying his God Given Solace was still alive.

* * *

The blazing heat throbbing in her thigh, left her gasping for breath as her eyes darted frantically around the small concrete room.

"Shh…shh," a deep voice cooed, as the man entered the room, walking towards the table where she was strapped to. "Don't move, I haven't put the stitches in yet."

"N-No," she gurgled; eyes widening when she spotted the needle and thread.

"Erin," he smiled; crooked yellow teeth angered by the pungent aroma of booze; wafted over her. "My name…is Pavel."

His hand reached out, wiping the tear from her cheek – smearing the remnants of ash over her fair skin.

Looking away, vision blurring as another man entered; his massive presence intimidating, causing her to whimper at the serrated scar that marred his face.

The fact that both of the men weren't wearing masks; refusing to disguise their identity – told Erin what she had already feared; these men had nothing to lose, and were willing to gamble it all.

"It hurt doesn't it?" the other man chuckled, leaning over her trembling body to examine the wound; dirty tourniquet drenched in crimson.

Reaching into his pocket, pulling out a syringe and glass vial. "You can have some of this…helps with pain," smiling, though his green eyes lacked any charm.

Pavel grabbed the scissors off the table, reaching for the bottom of her pant leg, and started to cut.

"Stop!" disoriented, stifled with panic.

"You want some of this?" the man smirked knowingly.

Erin shook her head, even as her eyes glistened with tears – wanting the scalding, stabbing pain in her leg to stop, but as bile churned in her gut; spinning her world, she greedily changed her mind and nodded.

"You can have some," walking around the table to the other side of the room, and it was only then that she realized Garcia was strapped to the table next to her. "But I take something from her, in exchange," placing his large palm on Penelope's exposed belly; inches below her velvet bra, drawing faint circles with his calloused thumb.

Erin strained against the cuffs; gritting her teeth as the ache thrummed through her body – having to make sure the younger woman was alive, needing to see the rise and fall of her chest.

"Garcia," she rasped out.

It took a moment, but Garcia's eyes fluttered, slowly blinking open – revealing glossed over hazel eyes, staring off in the distance.

The man smiled; trailing his hands higher and higher, between the swells of her breasts, until he cupped her cheek. "Wake up little dove," he chuckled. "Your friend needs help."

Penelope moaned, only for her eyes to clamp shut.

The man took a calming breath; and Erin imagined it was a rare sight to see his grisly features soften just the slightest. "Please, don't," tears slipping away, breathing through the stinging pain as Pavel tugged on the tourniquet.

Though her eyes never left the other man, whose hand had found his way to the front clasp of Penelope's bra and smiled.

* * *

To be continued…

Chapter Title - Deterius: Worse

Potoropis: Hurry up

Tikho: Silence


	7. Inmundus

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the support, the next update for this will be up soon! Also, Happy Belated Birthday, Mal!**

 **Warnings: Strong Violence and Coarse Language. (If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read) Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter III: Part II Inmundus

 _"What really raises one's indignation against suffering is not suffering intrinsically, but the senselessness of suffering." – Frederich Nietzsche_

* * *

Taking out his pocket knife, flicking it open with practiced ease as his brooding eyes quickly scanned the many screens hanging along the wall, only to land on the large computer screen in front of him.

Tapping a command, the camera slowly zoomed in, revealing six of the trapped agents. His thin lips; chapped from years of habitually tearing the skin, quirked with a perverse delight, as he watched each member take in the shock of the day's events.

Leaning back in the cheap swivel chair, he swung his legs up onto the metallic desk and grabbed the fruit from his small duffel bag, using the knife to methodically cut away the bright red peel of the apple.

Minutes ticked by and he slowly grew uncomfortable; shifting, only to reach into his pocket and toss his wallet and badge onto the desk. The laminated identification card, with his once hopeful face staring back at him, had that familiar feeling of disgust – an acidic turmoil; one that had been festering since he started working there, churn viciously in his gut, forcing his mind to wander and the blade to slip.

Slicing the tender flesh of his thumb.

Dark, warm liquid seeped out onto the pale fruit and he growled, tossing the apple against the wall, only for it to land with an unsatisfying thud across the floor. Taking a deep breath, bringing the wounded flesh to his mouth, sucking the acerbic tang – finding comfort with the pulsing throb.

Needing a distraction; he hit a button, flooding the space with the clipped voices of several agents – rolling his eyes as they tried to make sense of their captivity, and he huffed in irritation when they proceeded to scramble for a profile.

How predictable.

Though they had little to no evidence, and certainly nothing concrete.

Turning in the chair to face the other side of the room, his eyes flitted across several bulletin boards with specific personal information on each member – years he had spent researching, observing and gathering facts; laid before him to use freely as he pleased.

The man had the upper hand and it sent a thrill of arousal shooting down his spine. Taking his time, he briefly reviewed the material he had long since memorized, only for a gleeful smirk to brighten his chiseled features as his eager gaze landed on the picture of Technical Analyst Garcia.

Jaw taut with tension, as his narrowed eyes took in her signature colorful attire and glossy lips, only to stare at those blonde curls; pinned back with a sparkly flower clip. Her bubbly personality, evident from just a photograph, nearly ruined his foul mood.

She was a vital piece to his sadistic game; having appreciated her skillful finesse of all things technological from afar – and though her good-natured charm had wormed a splinter of affection within his calloused demeanor for the curvaceous woman, it did little to change his mind.

His plan was already in motion and he had no intention of stopping.

However, he couldn't deny the concern that lingered in the back of his mind – spinning back around, remembering that the team member who held the pieces to the puzzle together was still in critical condition.

Changing the settings, he quickly brought the cramped room with the two wounded members, onto the large computer screen.

He had given instructions – clear and precise.

Both women were to be treated and remain alive; needing all eight in order to start.

Though the brutish men he had teamed up with, had their own agendas, and their cooperation came at a cost.

They too, liked to play…and he, having no other choice, had reluctantly given them permission.

Scooting closer to the desk, nibbling on his bottom lip as he zoomed in on the man hovering over Garcia; hand dangerously close to her large breasts and he felt a flush of heat course through his tense body when the man's fingers latched around the front clasp of her bra.

He was a man with needs after all, and admittedly had been admiring her lush cleavage for years – hell, each woman on the team held a craving for his appetite, but Garcia was a…unique variety.

There was no denying his intrigue; completely captivated with the actions on the screen – he had all the time in the world to play, and would have his fill later.

Though at the moment, his mind raced with possibilities of how his little experiment would work; how the team would handle each situation thrown at them – riveted on the psychological impact that such scenarios would produce. Glancing at the screen, spotting Agent Morgan, the last one still standing – pacing the small cage, and he nearly chuckled with excitement.

Truthfully, the car accident had been a slight mishap, a mistaken calculation on his part. The spiked strip had been set up for an emergency situation in case they fled the property, and having unfortunately underestimated Agent Hotchner's strict timely management, they hadn't considered them arriving from the back entrance of the massive property.

Cracking his knuckles, peeved at how close they came to ruining everything before it even started. Taking a calming breath; he zoomed in closer on Garcia – flooded with relief as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

He wanted to watch what Alexei was up to; aware of the burly man's yearning for things vivacious - the curvier the better, but there was also a strong desire to see the painful contortions dance across Strauss' face as she moaned and tried to writhe away from Pavel's swift handiwork.

It was a nasty looking wound, and his meticulous mind wandered if the older woman would need a blood transfusion. Though, he wasn't worried. Not at all.

That makeshift medical room was well stocked and equipped to keep them alive for the duration of the time they would spend here, until it was decided that they were done with them, whether they lived or died after that, didn't matter to him.

Leaning back in his chair, grabbing another apple – he slowly began peeling away the skin, when an idea suddenly struck him.

Pressing the button on the two-way radio, he gave a sharp command in his native tongue – knowing he only had to wait but half a minute before his companion entered the room.

Her leather boots clicked like scraping teeth across the cement, mind flashing with the image of her in that tight black outfit, though it wasn't enough to have his eyes leave the flashing computer screens.

"Yes?" voice an airy purr; dripping with curious exuberance.

"I need you to fix the other two," letting the spiral peel fall to his feet.

"You never let me have any fun," hand coming to rest upon his shoulder; sharp nails digging into his wrinkled shirt.

"Fix them…," lowering his voice, as he cut off a giant chunk of apple and ate it – wiping the juices off with the back of his hand, "…first, and we'll see."

Hot breath cascaded over his neck as raven curls tickled his cheek, momentarily mesmerized as those soft lips pressed against his ear and she leaned over him, only to reach forward and grab the apple out of his hand. "I wander, do you have this many rules in bed?" thick accent an alluring rasp, as her tongue traced the shell of his ear, only to tsk in amusement once she spotted his new injury. "Oh, you need to be more careful… _sir_ ," fingers grazing over his cut.

Body tense with denied longing; wanting, needing to remain in control – fingers twirling the blade in his clenched hand.

The tall woman hovered for just a moment, taking a teasing bite. "Maybe Pavel can help _fix_ you, no?" tossing the fruity treat onto his lap as she swiftly moved away.

"Katya," he barked, as she reached the door.

"Be gentle…I get it," slamming closed the heavy oak; coy laughter echoing behind her – leaving him encapsulated with his facts and computer screens.

Turning the volume back up, he scooted down into his seat – preparing himself for what would surely be an interesting show.

* * *

Ignoring the heavy weight of the cuff links, his stubby fingers absently spun the cool metal of his class ring; dark hickory eyes scanning the room for any possible exits, only to fall upon the constant pacing of Morgan in the cage next to him.

He may be older but he certainly wasn't senile, having picked up on the budding romance between the agent and their bubbly tech some time ago – though of course, having been caught by the inseparable pair while he was leaving his own date with their Unit Chief a few weeks prior, certainly had a lot to do with his newfound knowledge. Rossi had brushed off their curious, knowing gazes with a few sarcastic remarks, easily placing the heat back onto them, only for Garcia to blush in embarrassment while Morgan stood tall with a smug, goofy grin.

Yes, Rossi understood why the younger man was furious; why he couldn't sit still, but if they were planning on getting out of this shit hole, he needed Morgan to focus.

"Derek," he barked, perhaps a tad too harsh – clearing his throat as the man whirled around to face him.

"No, I ain't sitting down," he growled, brows knitted with furious defiance.

"If you want to help Penelope, you need to calm down," a low blow, but a reasonable one.

"You haven't eaten much today, and your caloric intake is less than your input, so the energy your burning through is greater than…" Reid rambled, while nervously fidgeting his one cuffed hand; clattering the chains as his other hand, now in a dirty cast, laid limp at his side.

"Spence," JJ's soft voice cut him off, giving him a gentle smile as she shook her head.

"What!" laughing in disbelief, Morgan shook the large bolted lock against the thick fencing of the cage. "We're just gonna sit here?"

"For the moment…yes," Aaron gurgled, leaning against the cement wall, as he held a torn piece of his shirt over his still bleeding nose. "We need to regroup and you're making everyone anxious."

Rossi uncrossed his legs; now numb from the cold cement floor beneath him and clasped his hands over his knees. "Well the only thing we can do…" he started.

"Is to make a profile," Emily interrupted; she was braver then most and was sitting on the edge of the mattress having given up on finding comfort on the barren floor. "What do we know so far?"

"They're organized. Reeks of military training," Rossi started, glad to find something to focus on.

"It was all planned. Has been for quite some time," Prentiss added; throwing her hands up to indicate the room around them, only to jostle the chains in frustration. "That spiked strip was put there on purpose."

"So what…," Derek halted, deciding to lean against the wall; arms crossed, muscles rippling with tension. "Strauss said this was a _team bonding_ trip. Was that just a bunch of bull shit?"

"She had nothing to do with this!" Rossi narrowed his gaze, feeling that protective urge kick in for the woman he had been sharing a bed with.

"Yeah, Rossi? Are you certain about that?" his voice had dropped, daring the older man to disagree.

"I don't think she _planned_ on getting a tree branch lodged in her leg, Derek," JJ piped up, not caring to defend the woman, but understanding that their anger was distracting them from seeing the facts.

Rossi smiled in satisfaction; beaming at Derek, only to catch sight of the darker man's slumped shoulders, an indication that his valor had been battered and bruised – cruelly revealing his vulnerability. It was an abrasive exposure, that the older man instantly recognized to mean one thing – the women Morgan loved was in danger and he had been unable to protect her, and suddenly the small victory left Dave feeling pathetic.

Silence infused the space, coiling the suffocating tension around the room like a vile serpent, until Reid broke the standoff.

"Someone's watching us," he stated, so matter of fact – it jarred the team out of their momentarily reclusiveness. "Those cameras keep moving. Mostly zooming in and out."

David had been so keen on exits he had paid little attention to the small hidden cameras tucked discreetly in the corners of the room, feeling his jaw clench as he muttered a slew of his favorite profanities.

"The question is…" Emily gritted out; nibbling on her thumb, pulling at the tender skin of the nailbed. "What are they trying to figure out?"

"Well there's eight cages," JJ stood up, spotting the empty cages, which were obviously meant for Strauss and Garcia. "Which means they had something planned for all of us," hearing Derek's sharp intake of breath at her mistake, she blanched and instantly added. "They _still_ do," though it lingered over all of them, doing little to alleviate their dark thoughts.

"Is there any…significance to the order?" came Hotch's nasally inquiry, as he sputtered and blew his nose into the soaked fabric; gritting his teeth as his swollen eye throbbed, aggravating his pulsing migraine. Inhaling a breath through his mouth, trying to soothe the constant ache of his face and change his focus -needing to bring his team back together, hoping to discover something, anything that would help give them answers.

Rossi took in everyone's position. Emily was at the end, right next to him with Morgan on his other side. Then there was an empty space, followed by Hotch, JJ, Reid, and another empty cage at the end, but before he could determine any meaning, the large grate door swung wide open; scratching angrily against cement and then swinging closed behind them.

The fluorescent lights surged to life as two burly men walked into the room; one swinging a thick wooden baseball bat, while the other held a small leather doctor's bag. It was only when they parted that the tall, raven beauty stepped into the room; bright eyes twinkling with mischief as pearly whites flashed upon her face.

"Trying to figure it all out, are we?" she mocked; fingers twirling the ends of her dark curls, as she perched herself onto the end of the giant table.

"Where's Garcia?" Morgan growled, fingers clutching the harsh wiring of the cage.

"Ah, ah, ah…" shaking her head, as she tsked in amusement. "That's not how this works… _Agent Morgan_."

The taller man chuckled to himself, as he leaned against a steel beam, and then slowly tapped the bat against his boots. "Is _Garcia_ the one in the suit…" he taunted, sending Derek a nasty smirk. "Or the one in that cute little bra?"

"Fuck you, man!" Derek roared; shaking the cage door as it rattled on its hinges. "Don't you fucking touch her!"

"Considering I'm not locked in a cage…," the man shrugged arrogantly. "I can do as I please."

"Nicolay!" the woman's clipped voice, echoed in the cold space – effectively ending the conversation, only to bring her heated gaze back to the fuming Agent. "Your _Baby Girl_ …is that right?" arching a brow as she innocently twisted a lock around her finger. "Is with the rest of our associates getting all…stitched up."

The shorter man next to her; dark hair peppered with grey, huffed in agreement as he unzipped the bag, slowly taking out sharp medical tools, including syringes and several rolls of gauze and tape.

"Why don't we get started," taking out an elastic, she swiftly brought her curls into a pony tail. "Let's see, which one of you…" taking her time to look between Hotch and Reid. "Needs the most help."

Rossi felt fear prickle down his spine, as he watched Aaron's gaze narrow at the woman, while Spencer sat wide eyed; fingers tapping against his leg as his mind raced with possibilities.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," she jokingly sing-songed, only to look behind her. "Which do you think, Nick?"

Lifting his hand to rub against his thick goatee in fake contemplation, the man smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "How about…the one getting blood all over the fucking place."

"Oh, yes!" clapping her hands in glee. "Agent Hotchner," she purred, kicking her legs back and forth. "You are making quite a mess."

David grit his teeth; feeling his back stiffen as the man named Nicolay dragged one of the wooden chairs with an attached head rest and leather straps, across the room, not stopping until he was a few feet away from the table.

The woman took out a set of silver keys; dangling them around, before tossing them to Nick. "Let's _fix_ that nose of yours," sending Aaron a deceptively dashing smile as the burly man headed towards his cage.

"What are you doing?" Derek barked, pacing the cramped confinement like a lion – seething with tension.

" _Agent Morgan_ ," the woman crooned; brows furrowed in annoyance "You don't listen very well, do you?" jumping off the table, she slowly walked over – heels clicking pointedly across the floor, only to pull a gun out from the holster around her belt.

Taking a moment to stare at Derek, giving him a slow perusal. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun together…" tilting her head to side with coy scrutiny, only to step closer to the cage and lower her voice. "But…not as much fun as my men, are going to have with your precious… _Penelope_."

Derek surged forward, rattling his chains as the cage door violently shook, only for the woman to raise the gun and aim it at his head. "Agent Hotchner!" she shouted, silencing the room. "If you even flinch in the wrong direction, I will put a bullet through his head," giving Aaron a seething look, waiting until he reluctantly nodded in defeat.

Nicolay unlocked the cage; glaring down at the wounded Agent, only to release his cuffs and quickly haul him up to a standing position and then shove him out into the open room. Aaron stumbled forward, knees wobbling, only to catch sight of the other man holding up a long needle and syringe – his crooked smile, nearly menacing over his unshaven beard.

"Sit," Nick growled, pushing him towards the wooden chair.

Aaron hesitated, feeling nausea sweep through him, even as his training kicked in to defend himself, though as the woman tutted in annoyance; raising the gun just a little closer at Derek, he took a shuddering breath and sat down.

The man was callous as he quickly strapped his wrists in place, only to grab his face; fingers digging angrily into the tender flesh of his bruised cheek and then slam his head back into the headrest. The moment the buckle clicked into place across his forehead, panic churned his gut as fear settled into his bones.

Opening his eyes; shocked to see the woman leaning over him with a wide grin.

"Ivan, bring me some gloves," she called behind her; tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "This is…gonna hurt."

* * *

"Please don't," she pleaded, eyes glistening with tears – gritting her teeth as the man hovering over her loosened the tourniquet and harshly jiggled the sharp branch still lodged in her thigh.

"Don't what?" Pavel teased. "Help you?"

Erin clamped her eyes shut; willing the searing pain to stop, but feeling utterly helpless.

"No…I…," she mumbled, blinking away the stars that blurred her vision. "Don't hurt…her," she coughed; licking her lips – tasting soot, sweat and what she prayed wasn't blood, only to change her focus to Garcia.

Pavel chuckled. "Your friend is in good hands over there," giving a small nod to Alexei, who was now palming Penelope's breast. "See, she doesn't say a thing."

"Stop it!" she sputtered, trying to sit up only to get pushed back down. The sudden movement sent burning spasms ricocheting down her leg and the only thing she could do was vomit.

Pavel quickly turned her over, letting the putrid liquid cover her arm and drip onto the floor.

"Was that necessary?" he glared, scuffing his shoe with exaggerated disgust. "I tell you what, I give you this medicine, and stitch you up…and Alexei over there…," lifting Erin's head so she could see the other woman. "Gets to have a little fun. Understood?"

She shook her head, trying to roll away, only for him to grab her arm; a swift, harsh shove of the needle into her soft skin, and she suddenly grew lax – a cruel betrayal, that succumbed her body with comforting warmth.

Pavel leaned closer, his hot stagnant breath, tickling her face. "Was that so hard?" gently brushing the bangs out of her eyes, he then turned her head back towards the other table, so all she could do was watch.

Watch as Alexei's hand trailed slowly back up Penelope's still body, gently cupping her chin, thumb tracing her plump bottom lip, only for him to get lost in the crimson of her tangled hair – honey locks, now caked with blood from her head wound.

He ran a hand over her locks, twirling the now red curls and smiled.

Looking back up, he smirked at Erin's narrowed gaze – ignoring her slurred moans, and continued a leisurely perusal back down Garcia's still body; hand squeezing her soft tummy, before jumping to her knee and rubbing the bruised flesh through her torn stockings.

Taking his time, he rolled one plum stocking down her leg, and then the other – tossing the ruined fabric to the floor.

His large hand squeezed her bare ankle, drawing an intricate pattern as he slowly made his way back up her leg to the smooth flesh of her thigh, only to disappear underneath her skirt – deliberately snapping the elastic of her panties; sending a clear message to the Section Chief.

"Little dove," his husky voice whispered over Penelope. "Time to wake up."

* * *

To be continued…

Title Chapter – Inmundus: Unclean


	8. Culpa

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! Let me start off by saying thank you for your support, it's always appreciated! This story is really intense, and I promise that there is a reason for everything, and it will all make sense.**

 **Warnings: Strong Violence and Coarse Language. Deals with an Assault Situation and Sensitive Issues (If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read) Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter III: Part III Culpa

 _"They mess you up, your Mom and Dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had, and add some extra - just for you." – Philip Larkin_

* * *

 _The dazzling swirls of orange, purple and pink of the little girl's tie-dyed leotard matched beautifully with the soft satin of her ballet slippers, the itchy sparkling tutu that bounced around her chubby five-year-old hips, and her flashy snowflake tights, as the dainty melodic tune of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy played in the background._

 _Sweat gathered across her lightly freckled cheeks as she adjusted the little diamond tiara that held her riot of blonde curls in place. Balancing on her tippy toes, giggling, as she wobbled, she took a deep breath and twirled three times._

 _Flashing a triumphant smile when she didn't fall; letting out a squeal of delight – she had been practicing that move all morning after all!_

" _Did ya see that, Jellybean?" she shouted; running over to the toy rocking chair that held her favorite chocolate teddy bear with the big lavender bow. "Ya, missed it!" she tutted in mock exasperation._

 _Fixing her tutu; getting lost in the giant bedazzled gems her mom had helped glue onto the fluffy ivory tulle, only to look up and spot the frayed bunny at the foot of her bed._

" _Oh, Mr. Fuzzy!" she cried, quickly rushing over to cuddle him. "I forgot 'bout you. I'm sorry!" giving her second favorite stuffed animal a peck on its floppy ear, she jumped around the room – spinning in crazy vibrant circles, while proudly dancing along to the rest of the song._

" _Penelope!" that booming voice echoed downstairs._

 _Bright hazel eyes darted to her sticker covered door – fear rooting her to the spot._

" _Turn it down!" her stepdad barked; voice gruff with exhaustion._

 _Running to her yellow cassette player, small clumsy fingers quickly pressing buttons, only to accidentally raise the volume of the lively tune. Tears pricked her eyes when the springs from their raggedy sofa squeaked in protest, followed by his heavy work boots, as he quickly made his way up the staircase._

 _Panicking, trying to turn the music down, only to knock the player off the shelf and break open the cheap plastic. Batteries scattered across the floor, just as her door flew open – golden handle slamming into the already dented peach colored wall behind it._

" _What did I say about blasting that shit in this house!" he yelled; bleary eyes glaring at her small shaking form._

" _I'm…I'm s-sorry!" she stuttered out on a choked sob; clutching the rabbit to herself._

 _In a few short strides, he was in front of her, yanking the soft creature out of her hands – ripping the fragile stitches out, exposing the cotton stuffing and carelessly tossing it to the floor._

" _Mr. Fuzzy!" she shrieked, tears spilling over, as she stared in shock at her little friend._

" _Look at this place!" Victor Garcia bellowed, his stalky frame towering over her._

 _Penelope glanced around the explosion of glitter that was her art project, only to nibble on her quivering bottom lip when she spotted the big rusty tool box – one that she knew she wasn't supposed to touch, but had insisted she needed, and which took over ten minutes to lug up from the garage, in order to fix her cassette player._

 _Her endless creativity and innate curiosity, was always getting the best of her._

" _Did you go into the garage?" his voice was low; a demanding tone that meant she was in trouble._

 _Staring at her paint splattered ballet slippers, as the overwhelming feeling to call out for her mother rippled through her._

" _Answer me, Penny!" he growled; rolling up the sleeves of his oil stained mechanics shirt._

" _I just…I…" twisting her fake pearl necklace, mind racing for an excuse._

" _Look at me when I talk to you," thick accent slurred, as he stumbled forward._

 _Her eyes flashed wide, slowly looking up at him; tears starting to fall. "I…I just…b-borrowed it!"_

" _Without permission!" narrowing his dark gaze, kneeling in front of her – warm, alcoholic breath causing her to scrunch her nose in disgust._

" _N-No, S-Sir!" she babbled, shaking her head so hard the shiny tiara came loose._

 _Her stepfather rolled his eyes, reaching forward to unclasp the plastic clip; angrily tugging on a few of her soft tangled curls. "Always playing pretend. Your mother needs to stop teaching you this hippie bullshit!" tossing the tiara over her shivering shoulders, where it cracked in half and knocked out the fake sparkling stones._

 _Penelope held her head, rubbing the stinging pull of her tender scalp, as a fresh batch of tears streamed down her cheeks._

" _You b-broke it!" she sobbed, round little chin and button nose pointed in defiance. "Ya, big Meanie!"_

 _Vision blurred, too caught up with the swirling emotions of her tantrum; she unfortunately missed his large hand coming down to grab her arm – twisting the soft skin as he whirled her around, only to land a swift, harsh smack to her bottom; sending a searing pain shooting up her back and down her leg._

" _Oww!" she cried, trying to squirm away only to receive two more heavy blows. "Stop it!"_

" _I told you about that smart mouth of yours!" he hollered, raising his arm once more to strike, only to yelp in surprise when Penelope bit down onto his arm that clutched her to him._

 _Releasing her, lips twisted into a scowl, as he stared at the slobbered, reddened mark above his wrist, only to yell after her when she darted out of the room and down the hall._

" _Penelope Garcia!" he roared, stumbling over his own tool box as he chased after her. "Get you little ass back here!"_

 _Palms sweaty, as fear trembled through her, she practically flew down the stairs; long chubby legs almost tripping over each other. She had but a second to decide, taking a shuddering breath, she turned left, running down the hall to her oldest brother's room._

 _Ruben was finishing up his senior year of college, and therefore his room had been converted into part of an office and junk room – something the twenty-two-year-old hadn't been pleased about, but had reluctantly given up. Though Penelope, had grown up in that room, and knew that the back closet had the sturdiest door in the whole house._

 _Slamming into a few boxes, knocking over random objects, only to have a heavy trophy land on her little foot._

" _Oww…shit!" she screamed, throwing out the bad word her brothers shouted quite frequently, as pain shot through her toes, only to find renewed determination to hide when she heard Victor making his way down the hall._

 _Fumbling with the handle; hands shaking, she barely had time to open the thick oak door and slam it shut behind her – twisting the bolted lock in place; a secret her youngest brother Hugo, had helped her with last month, as Victor barreled his way into the cluttered room._

 _Breathing heavily, as she pressed her way through hangers of old suit jackets and her mother's many beaded dresses, only to stumble into the back wall. Doused in complete darkness, until the bedroom light flicked on – peeking through the crack underneath the door, she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth as her stepfather's shadow blocked the light._

" _Penny!" he growled, shaking the handle violently. "Open this door, right now!"_

 _Penelope hiccuped, nearly choking on her tearful sob that broke past her lips. "I'm sorry!" she whispered, over and over again, as Victor started to kick at the heavy oak door._

" _Fine, you little brat," he chuckled, though it lacked any merriment. "You wanna stay in there?"_

 _Instantly bolting up, snagging her curls on something sharp as she tried to get to the door. "No!" she yelled, as terror coiled inside her tummy._

" _You're gonna stay in there then," boxes started to be moved in front of the door – blocking the light and her exit. "And think about what you did!"_

" _N-No! Daddy!" she shrieked, unlocking the door – pushing against it, tearfully discovering it wouldn't open. "Please! I'm s-sorry!" jiggling the handle, desperately wanting to be out of the claustrophobic space._

 _Until finally, the movement stopped, and she heard the shuffling of his boots walk away._

" _Daddy!" she cried, little fists banging on the door. "Lemme out!"_

 _Only to be met with silence._

 _The dark, cramped space suddenly became hot – air seeming to disappear, causing her lungs to seize with anxiety. Taking deep, shuddering breaths – hearing her mother's soothing voice call out to her, giving a gentle reminder on how to calm down._

 _The little girl slumped to the floor in defeat, ignoring her wet cheeks, stinging eyes and sore bottom, as she softly hummed her favorite ballet tune._

* * *

Needing to breath; coughing – sputtering red liquid as he desperately tried not to choke on the bitter tasting iron that coated the back of his throat. Blinking rapidly, wanting to clear the dizzying spell that blurred his vision, only to grit his teeth as he swallowed the bile that cruelly flooded his mouth and burned his broken nose.

Gasping for air, trying to get away from the angry tugging of the woman's strong grip on his face, only to clamp his one good eye shut when she bent his tender flesh in the wrong direction – a sickening crunch of bone met his ears, and he couldn't help the painful groan that left his cracked, bleeding lips.

"Stop it!" someone shouted, JJ or Emily – he couldn't tell. "You're hurting him!"

The woman hovering over him, squeezed his nose shut – forcing him to look at her, feeling his jaw tick, as she stared straight back at him with a twinkling glint of amusement. Then before he could even catch his breath, the harsh material of cotton was shoved into his nostrils – fully blocking the passage, as she then taped a piece of gauze over his nose,

Inspecting it closely, only to arch a brow and tap the still bloody tip. "Good enough," bright eyes glancing towards the camera tucked in the corner of the room, and giving it an impish shrug.

"Ivan," she tutted in frustration, then mumbled a quick, foreign command – holding her hand out, only to grin when a sharp suture needle and the fine thread of stiches was placed in her palm.

"Almost done!" she crooned, easily getting the equipment ready – taking a long moment to admire his bruised face, as she pressed the pad of her thumb harshly into the lacerated flesh beneath his swollen eye.

Aaron failed to twist away, and the woman rolled her eyes, gripping his cheeks and slamming his head back. "Stop fighting it, Agent Hotchner," she grumbled. "You're not going anywhere."

Unable to hide behind his mastered stoicism, as agonizing pain blurred his vision – pulsing molten heat through the tense muscles of his weak body, while she leisurely, with methodical precision, threaded the first stitch into his wound.

Hissing a breath through his clenched teeth, fingers tucking shakily into the wooden arm rest, as she took her time to close the large gash across his cheek.

"Look at you," she whispered, taking a latex finger and wiping it across his damp forehead. "Already sweating."

His mind was murky; flooded with fading adrenaline, and as the needle dug cruelly into his soft flesh, he gave into the lax feeling of drifting away. Allowing the hazy image of his son to flash in his mind. Thinking about the birthday party he still needed to plan next month – wanting to surprise his son with a trip to his favorite museum in Washington, letting his lips quirk into a lopsided grin when he envisioned Jack's big smile, young and adorable; having recently lost his front teeth.

But then like an abrasive taunt, death seemed to loom over him – fearing any possibility that left his little boy to fend for himself. He had already lost a mother; Aaron would be damned to leave Jack without a father too.

As tears pricked his eyes, he took a deep breath – giving the woman, who seemed to enjoy the pain and suffering of others, a cold, steely gaze of determination.

"Ah," she cooed, giving a final tug off his sutures. "There's the _Aaron_ , I've heard all about."

"Yeah?" grinding his teeth with determination, daring a gaze towards his team who remained locked behind the cages – knowing they were dissecting every action of their captors, trying to find any clues that could help them escape.

Nodding her head; leaning in close, so only he could hear. "Thinking about your son…" raven hair tickling the bare skin that was peeking out of his torn tank top. "Will help you get through this."

Aaron bucked against the restraints, growling a slew of expletives – pulling the stitches that itched his cheek, only to be drowned out by her bark of laughter, when she quickly pointed the gun directly between his eyes.

"I just helped you out, Agent Hotchner," she bit out. "Show some respect."

Snapping off her gloves and tossing the medical tools on the table with a loud clatter, she tightened her pony tail and then locked her narrowed gaze on Spencer, nodding her head towards Nicolay who got ready to unlock his cage.

The woman smirked at Ivan, who remained standing guard next to her, still holding up the vial of medicine.

"Oh," she sighed with coy frustration; glancing back at Hotch. "Silly me. I forgot to give you, your pain meds."

Ivan filled the barrel with clear liquid, holding the needle up, as it glistened in the fluorescent lights. Walking over, trailing a finger slowly up his arm until she tapped his shoulder and then without warning, jabbed the shot into his arm – giving it a firm wiggle; intent on making it leave a nasty bruise, until she grew bored and pulled it out.

"Nighty-night," she crooned.

The angry shouts of his team were the last thing he heard, as they pulled Reid out of his cage and dragged him over to another wooden chair. Shaking the lethargic pull of his mind, he tried to focus, only to catch the harsh features of the tall woman, smirking back at him, as he slowly lost consciousness.

* * *

 _It felt like hours had passed by, as her tummy rumbled with hunger and the urge to potty became unbearable. Nervously playing with her tutu, Penelope picked off a few of the bedazzled gems and tried to occupy her mind with some brighter thoughts._

" _Penny!" someone shouted, causing her to bolt upright when she recognized the voice._

" _In here!" she yelled, having to clear her dry throat. "Get me out!" she cried._

" _Where?" came Miguel's concerned voice._

 _Her seventeen-year-old brother was home from baseball practice, which meant it was close to nine o'clock and she had been locked inside the closet for several, long hours – having missed lunch and dinner._

" _The closet?" he called back._

" _Yeah!" nodding her head, as she clutched the pearl necklace with her little hands._

" _Shit," he mumbled, quickly moving boxes. "Hold on, Sissy. Imma get you out, okay?"_

" _Okay," Penelope sniffled; bouncing on her tight covered feet, having taken the stiff slippers off a long time ago._

 _Less than a minute later the closet burst open, forcing her to clamp her eyes shut as the cramped space flooded with light._

 _She was instantly gathered and tucked safely into his strong arms, as he picked her up and marched them back towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. Locking the door behind him, he tried to place her down onto his bed, only for her to cling to him for dear life – making him sit down with her on his lap._

" _What happened, Penelope?" he cooed into her ear, rubbing soothing circles on her back._

 _Playing with the buttons of his uniform, feeling fresh tears spring to life, she could only shrug her shoulders in response._

" _Papa left for work," tucking a soft curl behind her newly pierced ears, gently tugging on the plump little lobe. "You're safe now." leaning over to reach his bed side table, he switched on the lamp – dousing the room in warm light._

 _She looked up, letting out a surprised giggle when she spotted his freshly shaven face. "Ya look funny!" she smiled, patting his bare upper lip._

" _You don't like it?" he grinned at her, hand dropping to rest against the itchy tulle and her sparkly snowflake covered leg._

" _It looks weird," scrunching her brows in concentration. "But…I like it!"_

" _Good, good," rocking her back in forth, knowing the motion reminded her of her beloved ocean waves. "Penny, what happened?" voice firmer, causing her to let out an exhausted sigh._

" _Daddy got mad at me," nibbling on her bottom lip._

" _Because?" he prodded, knowing he had to be patient when his little sister was upset._

" _I was dancing," she sniffled, wiping a stray tear. "And…and I w-went…into the garage."_

" _You played with his tool box again, didn't you?" he shook his head in disappointment._

" _My C'sette player was broken!" she whined, still unable to pronounce the word – causing her to stick out her tongue at his amused giggle. "I just…wanted to dance," she mumbled, remembering her father's explosive reaction – eyes darting to the door, suddenly fearful he would burst inside the room._

 _They sat in comfortable silence, until Penelope's young mind grew restless. After all she was hungry, scared and really sleepy – dropping her head to rest in the crook of his neck. "Eww," she whined. "You stink!"_

" _I stink?" came his bark of laughter, as he leaned in close; taking his time to smell her tangled curls, only to rear back in exaggeration. "Eww, no! You stink!"_

" _Nuh uh!" she harrumphed; crossing her arms in front of her._

" _You need a bath, Sissy!" eyes narrowing just the slightest, as he teasingly tapped her nose._

" _No!" she whined, squirming out of his lap, only for him to hold her tightly to him. "I hate baths!"_

 _ **Wake up!**_

" _C'mon I'll get a bath ready for you," rubbing small circles on her leg. "And then I'll make you some dinner," as his hand against her back, slowly dipped underneath the strap of her leotard – tracing the smooth skin of her shoulders. "How's that sound?"_

 _Penelope just wanted to crawl into her princess bed and go to sleep, not liking her brother's strong gaze and snug grip._

" _I don't wanna!" she pouted._

" _Shh, Penny," he whispered; hand trailing up her thigh, darting beneath her fluffy tutu and she froze._

 _Though the moment his fingers grazed the leotard between her legs, she bucked against him in shock, suddenly feeling confused and very bad._

" _My little dove," Miguel crooned into her ear._

 _Penelope felt her breath hitch, too shocked to cry, as his hands slowly trailed over her body._

 _ **Wake up!**_

 _Her head snapped back, suddenly pushing against him, only for him to jump up and plop her down onto his unmade bed. Quickly scrambling away; she huddled in the far corner of his bed, wrapping her arms around her legs._

" _I don't wanna play, Miguel," she cried, blonde curls dancing around her puffy cheeks, as she shook her head in defiance._

" _You've been a bad girl today, Penny," he growled; his once soft features, now dark and almost vicious. "We need to get you cleaned up."_

 _ **Wake up, little dove!**_

" _No…please…I'm s-sorry," she cried, body shivering with fear. "I'll be good. I promise!"_

 _Miguel was bigger than his little step sister, easily reaching forward – grabbing her ankle and hauling her across the bed; ripping her sparkling tights in the process._

" _No!" she shrieked, lifting her little hands up to scratch at him, but he was quicker and a lot stronger._

 _Covering her face, shaking her head – mind drifting elsewhere, as he removed her tutu._

 _The sensation of being drowned in frigid ice water trembled through her shaking body, as fingers probed – invading the soft flesh between her thighs and she bolted awake._

Startled; blinking her eyes open, struggling for breath, as every muscle in her body surged with excruciating pain. Her chest felt heavy, shins aching, head pulsing with the worst migraine of her life and the acerbic tang of iron surrounded her – feeling nauseous when she tasted it in her dry mouth and smelt it on her.

Trying to pull away only to discover a strange, brooding man standing over her – serrated scar, twisting his face into a horrible sneer, as his fingers cruelly entered her once more.

"Get off of me!" Penelope rasped, slapping at the man, only for him to grab her hair and yank her head back – bursting searing pain into her already throbbing head.

"Little dove," the man tucked his head against the crook of her neck; hot breath tickling her shivering flesh. "You finally woke up."

Penelope struggled against him, eyes darting around the small cement room – shocked to discover Strauss' slumped body restrained on the table next to hers.

"Erin," she croaked out, narrowing her gaze at the other man who waved a blood soaked hand in her direction.

"Nice of you to join us, Penelope!" the skinnier man chuckled, not missing a beat while stitching the jagged wound of her boss' thigh. "I see you've made friends with Alexei."

The man behind her snorted in amusement; his strong arm coming around her exposed belly to rest bellow her breasts, and it was then Garcia discovered that she was only in her bra and skirt.

"W-What!" came her choked sob of confusion, as she tried to make sense of the situation.

"Yes, my little dove," Alexei growled. "We're not done playing…"

The vile nickname, so familiar and haunting, chilled her body to the core, as the visceral memory of her childhood lingered in her bones and all she could do was burst into tears and struggle against the brute force that held her in place.

"Shh, Penny!" his husky voice sent shivers down her spine. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun."

* * *

To be continued…

Chapter Title – Culpa: Through my fault


	9. Doceo

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! Let me start off by saying thank you for your support, it's always appreciated! This story is really intense, and I promise that there is a reason for everything, and it will all make sense.**

 **Warnings: Strong Violence and Coarse Language. Deals with an Assault Situation and Sensitive Issues (If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read) Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter IV: Part I Doceo

 _"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My God, do you learn." – C.S. Lewis._

* * *

 _"Yes, my little dove," Alexei growled. "We're not done playing…"_

 _The vile nickname, so familiar and haunting, chilled her body to the core as the visceral memory of her childhood lingered in her bones and all she could do was burst into tears as she struggled once more against the brute force that held her in place._

 _"Shh, Penny!" his husky voice sent shivers down her spine. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun. But first...let's get you cleaned up."_

"No!" she screamed; forcing her aching body to roll away from him, though she didn't get far as his strong arms clamped tightly around her waist and slid her back across the metal table.

"Nuh uh," Alexei tutted teasingly, his stubby, blunt tipped digits dug harshly into her tender flesh as he wrapped his arm around her trembling body and easily yanked her off the table; tucking her securely against his solid chest.

Penelope had learned to love herself over the years; loving the flare of her hips, rounded tummy and rather large bosom. Of course, her blooming relationship with Derek had helped strengthen her growing appreciation for her curvaceous vibrancy. However, standing there without her cute, flashy heels, as her bare, battered feet cut into the cold cement floor, she suddenly felt very, very tiny, almost petite, since the top of her head came way below his broad shoulders. In fact, she had to arch her head way back to even look up at his face – not that she wanted to, but as she caught a glimpse of that hideous, serrated scar looming over her, she suddenly realized she couldn't hide behind those colorful gimmicks – that the thing that Derek adored about her, which she had learned to love about herself, was the exact same thing that was putting her in danger.

The man with that stern leering gaze, was relentless as he dragged her away from the table and towards the door; rousing her stiff joints and sore muscles, sending sharp, scalding pain shooting down her body. Knees buckling under the disorienting nausea that swept through her like a molten agitation, leaving her weak as she slumped into his arms; bringing forth a greedy smirk across Alexei's dark features, as he quickly squeezed her stomach and lifted her off the ground. The rough, jolting movement propelled her to struggle – wheezing for air, trying to quell the fire in her lungs before panic could creep into her bones. She gathered her withering strength and pushed against him, only to puke all over the floor.

The bitter acid cruelly burnt her throat and nose, as hot stinging tears blurred her vision, Gagging, desperately gasping for breath, only to inhale the consuming rancid smell and break into pitiful sobs.

"Fuck!" Alexei mumbled; hastily releasing her, letting her fall into the thick pungent odor of her own vomit.

"Oh, God!" she groaned; sitting there, trying to wipe off the sticky goop from her belly, and that was when she noticed the ugly purple bruise going across her shoulder and chest. The diagonal pattern resembled a seatbelt, and the blurry jagged memory of screeching tires and frantic screams flashed in her mind.

 _Was she in a car accident?_

Her fingers lightly danced over the discolored flesh, grimacing when it throbbed and painfully increased the tightness in her chest. Taking a shallow breath, for it still hurt too much to even do that simple motion, she tried once more to get the puke off of herself, hating the nipping bite as it got into the open wounds of her legs.

"Get up!" leather boot, harshly tapping her thigh.

Staring up at him, and that was when she realized the reason for her blurred vision was because of her lack of glasses. That spiral of fear, had tears springing forth, because not being able to see clearly was going to make an escape that much more difficult.

"P-Please," she begged, scooting away from him, only to startle and scream, when he roughly dug his fingers into her upper arms and hauled her up into a standing position. "No, no…no!"

"You made such a mess," he mocked; face contorting into a menacing grin.

"Hurry up!" Pavel barked from across the room – waving the sharp scissors around, getting ready to cut Erin's last suture. "You don't have all day to play. Dmitry gave you orders."

"Dmitry's just jealous…" his deep, rumbling laugh echoed throughout the sterile space. "That I get to play with his _pretty_ toy first."

" _Alexei_ …" Pavel warned, though when he spotted Penelope with her rumpled skirt and heaving chest – enticing ample cleavage spilling over her dirty velvet bra, he smirked. "Eh…maybe, I'll join you."

Hearing their words, so blatantly awful and directed towards her, sent terror lashing down her spine.

"Later…" the taller man growled, and before Penelope could even blink, he grabbed her around the waist and flung her over his shoulder like a rag doll.

Dangling upside down – the weight of her body pressing down on his harsh shoulder had her gasping for breath. Then he started to move, and she heard Erin's gurgled protests and that pained sound was all it took to shock her senses…and scream.

It was raw, hauntingly animalistic, as she sputtered; choking on the vomit that was still in the back of her throat and nose. Banging her fists against his back; scratching, tugging violently on his thick black thermal – legs kicking wildly, as she desperately tried to ignore that gut churning queasiness.

By now Alexei had made it under the open arch of the doorway, and her hands reached out; latching onto the door frame and holding on for dear life.

"Like a fucking wild cat," he grunted with amusement, but when the back of her elbow connected with the side of his head, he growled – losing his patience, and without a second thought, brought his hand up to her bruised ribs and harshly, brutally pinched her skin – twisting, digging until she shrieked through agonized sobs and let go. "I need to teach you how to behave," he gritted out – large, calloused hand sliding up underneath her skirt to rest against her bare ass.

 _No matter what, you fight. You struggle. Give yourself a chance to get away._

Derek's husky voice filtered through the haze of her anxiety and she let her mind drift for just that blissful moment.

* * *

" _Phew, Baby Boy," she panted, wiping the sweat off her brow. "Mama needs a break."_

" _Oh, no you don't," he tutted; swiftly grabbing her wrist, twirling her around, until her back was plastered to his front – effectively locking her in a twisty pretzel position._

" _Hey!" she pouted, only to huff in annoyance as she blew her matted bangs out of her face and squirmed. "No fair, you cheated!"_

" _An unsub won't give you a minute," he growled, fingers slowly trailing down her inner arm, sliding lower, teasingly down her side – stopping right below her breast to pluck the tight hot pink spandex tank top, and then coming to rest around her hips; fingers pressing into the soft exposed skin of her belly…near that knotted starburst scar. "You have to be ready, for anything."_

 _She stilled, taking a shuddering breath, as that dreadful feeling of being shot by a man, whom she had foolishly thought she could trust, washed over her. It was the reason why she was here; red faced and sweaty, standing in the middle of Derek's basement on top of worn-in blue mats, as he taught her self-defense. He had literally barricaded himself insider her office, not believing she was safe with Lynch – someone she had discovered he wasn't particularly fond of, until she had agreed to take some lessons with him._

 _The first rule she had stipulated was that she refused to go anywhere near the Quantico gym. Second, she wasn't there to workout, but strictly to learn a few helpful moves for her safety. And third, he was going to cook her dinner and let her pick out two movies for them to watch later that night. Penelope had thought she had made the right decision – believing she could easily distract her Hot Stuff on his own turf, but standing there with her deflated curls, smeared makeup and smelly clothes, she realized the error in her thinking._

 _Then she had a thought, a rather naughty one. If he wanted to play a brutish alpha, she would play a flighty damsel in distress._

 _Squirming, feeling him still behind her when her ass gently, then firmly ground into the grey sweat pants over his groin. Kicking it up a notch; knowing how he loved the sound of her voice, she started panting, breathy little moans, as she struggled against him._

" _Like this?" she purred; squirming excitedly, biting her lip to suppress a coquettish grin, when his arm froze around her waist and slowly grazed the undersides of her breasts – creating an electric zing that pulled a throaty whimper from her parted lips, as her round, heavy tits now rested fully on his forearm. The firm weight of his tense muscle, molded so exquisitely against her soft flesh, had her mind stuttering with need – exposing years of pent up frustrations._

" _Damn it," he growled and then grabbed her leg, easily flipping her onto her back; letting her land with a soft thud, as one large palm held both of her hands high above her head, while his other hand gripped below her knee – holding her leg to his waist, where he was resting between her legs; grinning with smug satisfaction, playfully waggling those expressive brows above her. "That's not what I meant, you minx."_

" _Oh?" blinking through thick lashes, licking her now bare lips. "I bet you, my chivalrous Angelfish, that I can still get out of this."_

" _Is that so?" adjusting himself; bracing on his arm above her, only to rest more of his weight teasingly against her center. "Show me."_

 _Hissing out a breath; loving the challenging, dark, heated glint in those amber eyes, and without any warning she lifted her head forward to blow hot air into the crook of his neck, peeking her tongue out to trace the smooth column of his throat, only to latch onto the soft lobe of his ear and nibble. Shocked by her bold movement, he loosened his grip around her wrists, and tilted his head, granting her more access, only to release a deep grunt of approval when she lifted her other leg and wrapped it around his waist; bringing him deliciously closer._

 _And before his body could sag heavily on top of hers, she used all her strength while he was distracted to yank her arm out of his loose grip and push against his shoulders, until he was on his back, leaving her sitting happily, victoriously, above him._

" _Well lookie here," she tutted, leaning forward to hold his arms next to his head. "You've seem to have lost your touch."_

" _You cheated, Baby Girl," and though he was frowning, there was no denying the twinkle of amusement that poorly disguised the always flagrant lust behind his hooded eyes._

" _Oh, little ol' me!" she gasped, releasing his arm to dramatically fan herself with mock indignation. "Why I would nev'ah," giving her best rendition of a southern twang, as she peered down at him._

 _Then she froze, giggles dying on her lips, as the heated ridge of his member; tucked snugly between her legs and resting right below the curve of her ass, eagerly swelled to life._

" _My, my…is Little Morgan, excited to see me?" batting her lashes, cheeks blooming warm at her daring words._

" _Little?" he bit out, eyes flashing – rocking his hips upwards, letting her feel every long, teasing inch._

 _No, there certainly wasn't anything little about Derek – and that thought had wet heat pooling between her thighs; throbbing with that familiar yearning._

" _Easy there, cowboy," pressing him further into the mat, while wiggling her ass. "Ya wouldn't wanna rev this Mustang up, if you don't plan on taking her out for a ride."_

" _I've been planning it for three years," his voice, thick, husky, and oh-so-serious, had her blushing with shock, and quickly glancing away._

" _Derek…" she laughed, shaking her head – ignoring the tension that sizzled around them – only to embarrassingly remember that she had just went out on her fourth date with Kevin that week. "I um…what move is next?" shifting – wanting to grind herself onto the pulsing heat blazing between them, but knowing that she needed to get up…so she stayed put, and waited._

 _He stayed silent, taking a few shuddering breaths, before giving her a warm smile._

" _I think you got it," delicately patting her upper thigh, fingers whispering over the flare of her hip; another inch and he would be grabbing the rounded, plump flesh of her derriere. "Your one tough cookie, Baby Girl."_

 _Looking back at him, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "I had a great teacher."_

" _Just remember," lifting his hand, gently swiping his thumb across her bottom lip, to rest against her cheek. "No matter what, you fight. You struggle. Give yourself a chance to get away."_

* * *

The memory felt distant, though it twisted the knife of terror lodged in her chest – giving her a bout of renewed determination, since she didn't want to disappoint Derek.

Using her languid limbs – arms shaking with exhaustion, she propped herself up on his back, awkwardly, almost dangerously, dangling over his shoulder to stare down what appeared to be a long brick hallway. There were a few doors on each side, though it was the large steel one at the very end, with the giant bolted lock that had her blood turning to ice, yet she suddenly felt a sliver of hope when she found herself being carried in the opposite direction.

Though it didn't last, as Alexei's intrusive fingers squeezed her bare ass. Freaking out, she started to kick her legs and beat her fists against his back once more, though she only succeeded in slowing Alexei down just long enough for Penelope to see Pavel hauling Strauss towards that large looming door. Their eyes met briefly – one of shocked blue horror, the other with hazel sympathy.

"Let her go!" she screamed; sensitive soul aching for the Section Chief, and even though she wasn't particularly fond of the woman, she didn't want to see her getting hurt; the woman was suffering enough. "Please!" she begged. "Stop it!"

"Hush now," Alexei cooed with that sickly, sweet voice, suddenly making a sharp turn, that sent the back of her shoulder slamming into the edge of another doorway.

Yelping in pain, blinking the dazzling burst of stars from her eyes, only to look around the small bathroom with the large porcelain claw foot tub and stainless walk-in shower.

"No, no…no!" she cried, trying to claw her way off him and out the room.

"Look at you, you're a fucking mess!" he gritted out, kicking the door shut with his foot and the solid click of the door locking behind them was deafening. "Now I'm gonna put you down," he barked. "So, don't give me any shit."

He didn't move, and when she looked around, still perched on his shoulder, she spotted his harsh gaze staring back at her in cracked mirror along the wall. Taking a hiccupping breath, she nodded, only to be dropped – legs weak and unsteady, she didn't have the strength to catch herself and went careening across the rough cement floor.

"Oh, Little Dove," he chuckled.

"Don't call me that!" she bit back, glaring through tears – feeling anger bristling down her spine.

"Why not. It's your nickname, no?" arching a knowing brow – an arrogant checkmate.

"H-How…do you know about that?" sticking her chin up with defiance; her innately curious mind too confused to make much sense of anything.

Pushing up the sleeves of his thermal, only to adjust the thick leather belt around his stained black jeans. "We know everything."

"We?" she stumbled to a standing position. "Whose we?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he reached a hand forward and she jumped back, banging into the sliding glass door of the shower – glaring when he chuckled; a deceptively charming sound, only to twist the golden knobs, making the old pipes creak, sputter and then surge to life; echoing around the claustrophobic space, as it filled the porcelain tub with steaming water.

"Where's my team?" she panicked, hating the feeling of being dropped into a pit of slithering snakes. Needing answers, she squared her shoulders; ignoring the angry tension of her back and tested her luck. "Are they, okay?"

His stubby digit scratched at the jagged scar across his cheek that furrowed around his eye, before dropping his hand to test the temperature and shrugged. "They're waiting for you."

"What? Where?" crossing her arms; seeking comfort.

"You almost got killed," his lips twisted into a nasty scowl and he took a giant step forward. "That would've ruined everything."

His hand shot out, forcing her head to snap back and bang against the glass, before he roughly cupped her chin; fingers jabbing into her cheeks, forcing her to stare at him.

"Once I get you cleaned up," his thumb traced her bottom lip, prying it open, only to dig into her clenched teeth. "We get to play."

She shook her head, fat tears silently rolling down her dirt streaked face.

"Shh, shh…it'll be fun," bringing his other hand up, until his fingers touched the matted blood of her tangled curls, only to slowly twirl a soft pink lock.

Penelope froze, watching as his eyes softened with wonderment and his lips quirked into a smile.

"I bet you would look lovely…" voice a dark, husky breath that shook when he lifted the blush rose curl and greedily sniffed it; lifting his gaze, mesmerized with the crimson tainting her blonde locks – glittering emeralds heated and dangerous. "With red hair. A little fucking spit fire," he growled, large hand clamping around her neck – forcing her to gasp in pain, only to shockingly, invasively, spear his tongue into her mouth.

Terrified, she bit down, tasting blood and hearing his screams ricochet off the tiled walls – though she didn't let go of his slippery muscle, not until the splintering force of his fist slammed into her ribs and knocked her back.

The air fled her lungs as she tumbled to the floor – gasping, wheezing for breath; feeling her consciousness flee from her shaking grasp.

"You like it rough!" he roared, spitting blood across her feet – reaching for his belt, he quickly unbuckled it and whipped it out of its loops. "Well so do I… _Baby Girl_ ," letting the belt snap in his hands like a thunderous strike. "Just like your, _Hot Stuff_."

Penelope stared wide-eyed, mouth hanging open – gulping for air, struggling to breath as she fought the spasm that shook her body and stole her voice. Trembling with fear, all she could do was cower as the harsh leather was raised high above her head – bracing herself, expecting an explosion of torturous fire, only for the heavy metal door to swing open and crash against the wall.

"Alexei!" came a deep booming voice.

"Get out, Dmitry!" he fumed, pacing in the cramped space. "I'm not done!"

"What the fuck…" Dmitry barked, stepping into the room and though he wasn't as burly as Alexei, his tall, lean form still had the power to push him back into the wall – elbow digging roughly into Alexei's neck as he held him in place. "Are you doing?"

Alexei didn't speak, though his eyes, now dark like burning coal, remained glued on Penelope's small, battered form, which was tucked between the tub and shower.

"Do I have to babysit you?" Dmitry bit out. "Did you forget we have a job to do?"

Alexei growled, shouting heated words in a language Penelope assumed might be Russian, and as they argued in the corner – minutes dripping together like molasses, her bleary gaze couldn't help but drift to the open door and subconsciously shift towards it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Garcia," came the deep velvety voice of Dmitry, who had finally released Alexei and was now facing her with an amused smirk that graced his handsome features. "You're causing me a lot of fucking trouble."

"I-I…I don't…" she mumbled, mouth dry and scratchy – the taste of iron, nauseating.

"My brother here," adjusting the collar of his now wrinkled navy button up. "Has a thing for…curvy woman," staring openly at her breasts, matching emerald eyes heating. "He likes them…a lot," stepping forward until he was kneeling in front of her. "And so, do I."

"Please…I'm sorry…I just…" she rambled, tears itching her puffy eyes.

Dmitry smiled, reached over to shut the water off, and then stood back up. "But unlike Alexei, I can control myself," giving the man, who was now moping angrily in the corner, a withering glare, only to look back at her and tilt his head. "I'm going to let you in on a secret, Miss Garcia. Do you want to know what that is?"

A sob broke past her quivering lips and she tried to scoot even farther back, heated skin shivering under the cool tiles.

"Of course, you want to know…" fingers playing with the button of his shirt sleeve. "Your team has done a lot of damage. Cost me a lot of money. Angered a lot of people," loosening the pearl fasten, methodically rolling up his sleeves, eyes never leaving hers. "You know what happens to people like that?"

She sniffled, whimpering – clamping her eyes shut, fearing the answer, only to shoot them open with his next words.

"Oh, Penelope… _Penelope_ ," he tutted, voice dripping with disappointment. "My second rule," giving a stern nod of his head, making sure she was looking at him – paying attention, before he secured his sleeve above his elbow and then started with the next one. "Is that when I ask a question…you answer it. Got it?"

She nodded, biting her lip as her head throbbed – pulsing that vicious nausea through her exhausted body.

"That's good," sleeves pushed up, revealing the intricate scars and tattoos of his arms that told a story of abuse and determination. "Now what happens to people that get away with shit for too long…is that they get punished."

Snapping his fingers, signaling Alexei to step forward.

"And you, Miss Garcia…" he stepped back, giving the brutish man room. "Are going to be the first lesson."

"Wait!" she cried, scrambling away from those greedy hands as Alexei reached down to scoop her back up. "No…no! Please…please, let me go!"

"Bring her to the room," Dmitry smiled, eyes glittering with excitement. "And clean her up there."

* * *

To be continued…

Chapter Title – Doceo: Teach


	10. Purgo

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! Let me start off by saying thank you for your support, it's always appreciated! This story is intense, and I promise that there is a reason for everything!**

 **Story Warnings: Strong Violence, Sexual Situations and Coarse Language.** **Deals with an Assault and Sensitive Issues** ****If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read** Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter IV: Part II Purgo

 _"Remove my sin, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." – Psalm 51._

* * *

 _Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen…_

Cinching his eyes shut, heavily panting through the pain as those long, lithe fingers bent, twisted and jabbed enthusiastically at his injured arm. The filthy cast around his wrist had been removed; revealing the swollen bruised limb to the woman's dark, apathetic gaze.

 _Oxygen, Fluorine, Neon, Sodium_ – a sharp, manicured nail scratched at the tender flesh, making him grit his teeth – _Magnesium, Aluminum, Silicon, Phosphorus…_

"How long can you keep that up?" strident voice biting every word, savoring his misery as she slowly entwined their fingers together only to quickly, brutally, snap his wrist back – forcing his eyes to shoot open.

 _Sulfur, Chlorine, Argon…Potassium, Calci-…_

His mantra faltered – breaking the rhythm of chemical elements from the periodic table and opening his mind up to the impending discomfort that had already pooled sweat between his furrowed brows.

"Ah, poor thing," she grunted, giving him a toothy grin. "Not very long, I see."

The loud sloshing clatter near the door, had him peeling his eyes off the stern woman to discover Nicolay carrying a metal bucket filled with ice water.

"You're a Doctor, no?" Katya tucked a loose curl behind her heavily pierced ear; eyes flashing like a storm of excitement as she gave his cheek a firm pinch. "Then I don't need to explain what this is for."

Nicolay dragged a short stool next to his wooden seat, plopped the bucket on top of it – splashing cold water all over the place, only to wait patiently for Katya's command.

"L-Leave hmm 'lone," Hotch's slurred protests pulled a throaty chuckle from her pursed lips.

"Isn't that cute, _Dr. Reid_ ," Katya taunted, stepping towards Hotch – running a hand through his greasy chestnut locks, pulling and tugging, until he groaned incoherently. "All drugged up, and he's still trying to lead."

Heated obscenities billowed over the rattling of chains scraping against cement, causing Katya to pull out her gun and slowly drag it along Aaron's jaw, as her scrutinized gaze stared mockingly across the room.

"I won't warn you again, Agent Morgan!" she gritted out; tapping the gun against the stitched wound of Hotch's cheek.

Derek stopped shaking the cage door, though he didn't step back, and Spencer felt only slight relief when he saw the rest of his team standing guard inside the sturdy enclosures; doing their best to send him support, but the striking daggers of concern and anger lingering behind their narrowed gazes, only fueled the suffocating tension that twisted around the room and angrily picked at the gnawing dread that churned his gut.

"Go ahead," flicking her wrist towards the rugged man, waiting until Reid's arm was loosened from the restraint before she holstered her weapon. "Let's fix that arm."

 _Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium…_

Methodically listing the chemical elements once more, only to grit his teeth and slam his head back into the wooden headrest, as his battered arm was submerged into the frigid water. Tears sprung from his eyes, as his adrenaline slowly faded; easily disarming his focus and forcing him to feel the piercing ache, though not wanting to see her satisfaction; refusing to let them fall, he quickly blinked them away.

"Let him go!" Morgan roared, though his defiant reaction was drowned out by Emily and JJ's thunderous outrage.

"Stop it!" JJ's shrill scream echoed around the cold, sterile walls, as her arms flailed wildly against the restraints. "You're hurting him!"

Only for Emily's vicious "Fuck you!" to make Katya jump back onto the large metal table; legs swinging while she picked at the imaginary dirt underneath her nails.

Long minutes crept by and Spencer's whimpers slowly quieted down and his body stopped thrashing.

"The ice is to numb the pain," twirling a raven lock, looking over her shoulder at the cages. "It's not my fault that Dr. Reid here can't handle drugs," dark eyes sparking with mischief. "What's he addicted to?"

"Dilaudid," Ivan grunted, holding up a needle beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, as he tapped the glass vial with his fingers.

"Dangerous shit," she shrugged, crossing her ankles, narrowed gaze landing on Reid; who was now slumped in the wooden chair. "Have to be very…careful with it."

"Don't you fuckin' think about it!" Derek growled, nostrils flaring as he tugged against the chains once more.

"Or what?" her twinkling laugh goaded from across the room. "I can pump his veins with as much of this shit as I want, while you just sit there and watch," holding her hand out, she took the vial and eagerly waved it around. "Don't fucking tempt me!"

The room instantly fell silent. The only noise swirling around was Morgan's heavy breathing and Reid's muffled whimpers.

Satisfied, she clapped her hands several times, allowing Nicolay to finally remove Spencer's arm and take away the bucket, only for Ivan to sit on the stool and quickly, roughly, wrap his swollen wrist with several elastic bandages.

Ivan was almost done tugging on the tight compression when a loud terrified scream filtered through the thick cement walls.

Derek kicked at the cage door, arms twisting violently against those heavy chains, struggling to escape. Having recognized that voice, he became desperate – heart plummeting with fear, as his mind raced with horrible possibilities.

"Penelope!" he shouted, ignoring the warning glare from the taunting woman.

Her screams became muffled, but the metal door swung open, and he took a shuddering breath – hoping, praying to see his Baby Girl, only to narrow his gaze when another man; this one tall and slender but just as athletic, dragged in a semi unconscious Erin Strauss.

"Fuck," he bit out, catching a quick glimpse of a long and empty hallway before the door swung shut with a resounding click.

"What did you do to her!" Rossi barked; fingers clutching the cage door. "Erin!" trying to get her attention, only for her head to loll to the side as she was shoved into a cage at the very end.

"Pavel, where's the other one?" Katya smirked, eyes never leaving Morgan's.

"She's with Alexei," came his simple response, as he dropped Erin onto the dirty mattress and then secured her wrists with the restraints. He checked the sutured wound of her thigh; the white bandage already stained with blood, before shrugging his shoulders and locking the door. "Getting all cleaned up."

"Oh _, poor thing_ ," she cooed, stepping closer to Morgan's cage – fingers playing with her silver locket that dangled between black lace. "Did little Penelope, wake up all alone, with a strong, scary man standing over her?" she teased.

"Don't listen to her, Morgan," Prentiss hissed, shoulders squared, chin pointed with defiance. "She's just riling you up."

A tormented wail cut through the arctic rigidity that had settled over the room.

"Hmm, am I?" blinking coyly through thick lashes, as her tongue slowly traced her upper teeth.

Morgan was panting, expressive brows furrowed with sweat, eyes dark and dangerous, as he desperately tried to temper his aggression – not wanting to ruin any chance he had of protecting Garcia.

"Potoropis!" she barked at Nicolay and Ivan, spinning on the heel of her boot to speak with Pavel in hushed tones, who was now standing off to the side, fiddling with the doctor's bag.

"Get off me!" Hotch groaned, and though the drugs were slowly wearing off, his ability to fight against their solid hold was still impeded – turning him into a rag doll, as they roughly yanked him out of the wooden chair and hauled him back over to his cage, where they quickly and efficiently, secured him behind the metal confines.

"Are you, okay?" JJ whispered, trying to inspect his face – hating the glazed, distant expression of his whiskey eyes.

"Yes," he gritted out, only to glare across the room as Nicolay tugged on Spencer's injured arm, lifting him out of the seat and shoving him towards his own cage.

The minute Nicolay closed the door and clicked the heavy lock in place, the metal door swung open revealing Dmitry with those glittering emerald eyes and elaborate tattoos. Ignoring the eager gaze of Katya, his face twisted into a perverse grin, as he loosened the buttons of his wrinkled shirt and perched himself on the edge of the table right next to the closed manila folders.

Derek stiffened, eyes darting down the hallway, only for his heart to break and sluggishly pulse terror into his body that was already taut with anger, when he saw Penelope, battered and bruised in just her skirt and bra – body covered in dirt, blood and what looked like vomit; struggling against the muscled man who was easily dragging her into the room.

"No!" she yelled, voice hoarse with fright, as she latched onto the doorframe and held on for dear life. "Please!"

"Get your fuckin' hands off her!" Morgan spat; hands clutching the caged door, nearly rattling it off its hinges.

Alexei tightened his grip around her waist, as his other hand grabbed a fistful of knotted curls and viciously snapped her head back, causing her to cry out and stumble into his chest, as he forced her into the center of the room.

"Penelope Garcia," Katya hummed; slowly peeling her heated gaze off Dmitry, and twirling those sleek, raven locks. "Nice of you to finally join us."

"W-What?" she mumbled, shaking her head; eyes squinting, trying to make out the blurred shapes across the room, only for the familiar husky voice to calm her shattered nerves. " _Derek_?"

"I'm right here, Baby," he called to her; desperately trying to mask the lilt of worry that shook every word.

"Come here, Miss Garcia," Dmitry's abrasive command cut through her like steel.

Alexei released her and she pitched forward; the palms of her hands smacking the cement floor, before she slowly wobbled to a standing position. With the team locked in large cages behind her, and the lecherous brutes in front of her, she couldn't help but to feel trapped and utterly helpless.

Shaking her head, stumbling a few steps back, only for his booming voice to wrap around her like a serpent – squeezing the breath from her body, leaving her paralyzed with fear.

"I know you didn't forget the rules," he gritted out, eyes fuming with unleashed anger. "Or do I need to remind you?"

"Leave her alone!" Derek snapped; dark scowl twisting his fine features.

"Miss Garcia," Dmitry cooed, flashing his teeth at the brooding agent. "Tell your team what my first two rules are," only to pick up a file, and flip through the pages with dull enthusiasm. "Go ahead, I'm waiting."

"I…I-I don't…" tears slipped down her cheeks, as she crossed her arms protectively in front of her. "R-Remember."

"Analyst my ass," Katya snorted, arching a manicured brow, giving Penelope a scrutinized once over. "A blonde with no brains…typical."

"My kind of woman," Nicolay taunted; heated gaze lingering on Penelope's ample cleavage, as he rubbed a hand over his crotch, before looking away and sending Derek a lecherous smirk.

"Later, Nicolay," Dmitry soothed, giving him a stern nod of disapproval, before waving a hand towards Katya. "Kitty, why don't you remind, Miss Garcia, for me."

Raising her chin, eyes flashing with excitement, she walked towards her, letting her heels echo like bullets around the cold space. "When we ask you a question…you answer," sticking a hand out to tug on a blood soaked curl. "When we tell you to do something…" husky voice dropping dangerously low. "You do it."

Slowly walking around her, she leaned forward, soft locks tickling the crook of Penelope's neck before she whispered. "Now get over there," the harsh shove from the taller women sent her flying into Dmitry's waiting grasp, who wrapped his strong arm around her waist and then plopped her ass onto his thigh.

"Now, BAU team, you're probably wondering why you're here?" looking at the haggard members, waiting – only to be met with silence. "Oh, Penelope…" he growled, fingers snaking up her side until his hand was resting on the front of her neck. "Your team already broke my rule."

"Get your hands off her!" Hotch growled; now standing up, brows knitted in concern. "If you have a problem take it up with me!"

"He asked a question," Katya hissed. "And none of you answered," walking closer towards the table. "What happens when a rule is broken?"

"P-Punish…m-ment," Garcia hiccupped, choking back a sob when Dmitry's calloused fingers danced along her pale throat, only to harshly dig into the tender flesh and instantly block her air.

The room erupted into screams, as she frantically gasped for breath, struggling – her nails scratched into his hand, making him stand up; lifting her feet off the ground, until she was bouncing on her tiptoes.

"You fuckin' son of a bitch!" Morgan shouted – body trembling with rage; hating that feeling of being that lost little boy. "I'll fuckin' kill you!"

Penelope wheezed, blinking back the dazzling white dots – trying to ease the burning sting from her lungs, only to go sprawling across the floor; elbows scraping cruelly against the harsh cement when Dmitry finally released her.

"You'll what?" he laughed, stepping in front of Morgan. "Kill me?" eyes narrowing, lips snarled, as he lowered his voice. "I'll fuck your woman right in front of you, while you rot in that cage," Penelope whimpered; her weak attempt to scamper away pulled his dangerous gaze back onto her. "In fact, Alexei," he called, tugging his shirt out of his dark slacks. "Why don't you get her all cleaned up for me."

"Oh, Garcia," JJ cried; baby blue eyes swollen with tears, but there no masking the glittering determination and fury that flashed upon her face. "She didn't do anything!"

Penelope screamed when Alexei's large hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and brutishly yanked her off the floor. Her bleeding hands gripped his wrists, trying to release the searing tension on the crown of her head, as her legs kicked wildly out in front of her. Though it was no use, as he easily lifted her around the waist and dragged her over towards the shower, where Nicolay was waiting with the heavy cuffs.

"No…n-no…no!" she whimpered, digging her heels into the ground – aggravating her bruised shins. "Please…no!"

The locks clicked into place, and her hands were raised high above her head and attached to a strong metal hook that hung from the ceiling. Nicolay's calloused fingers dug into her hips, only to trail down her tattered floral skirt and drag the soft material back up until his hands rested on her bare ass, causing her to squeal and buck forward into Alexei, whose large palms latched onto her knees and held her in place.

"No panties!" Nicolay growled, chuckling when Morgan spat useless threats from across the room, inciting the burly man to squeeze the plump flesh of her derriere only to slowly, teasingly, separate her cheeks; allowing cool air to trail over her intimate parts. "You little slut. I can't wait to fuck this little ass of yours."

She barely had time to catch her breath or let his words sink in, because Alexei reached his hand forward to clutch the front clasp of her bra; chilling her blood, as panic settled into her bones and a strangled scream broke past her chapped lips.

Leaning all her weight back onto Nicolay, she twisted out of Alexei's tight grasp, suddenly lifting her legs up off the floor, only to bring them back and then kick them forward right into the center of his chest, making him stumble over his own feet. Though the moment he caught his balance and stood back up to his full height, his expression had darkened; contorting into a nasty, menacing scowl, giving her just enough time to close her eyes before the back of his hand struck her face. Sending her head snapping back, splitting open her cheek and forcing her teeth to bite cruelly into her tongue – flooding her mouth with that bitter, acerbic tang once more, as she broke down into hysterical sobs.

Stubby fingers tugged on the zipper of her skirt, letting the once pretty fabric fall open around her hips, only to release it, letting it pool around her dirty feet. Eyes shooting open, dashing frantically around the room, bottom lip quivering, head rapidly shaking back-and-forth – instantly regretting the sudden motion, as nausea swept through her; keeping her from hearing Derek's harsh commanding ' _Don't look'_ to the team, but he needn't worry, they had looked away long ago, protecting their friend from further humiliating torment.

Trying to breathe through the blood and tears, only for the loud creaking of pipes to jostle her throbbing mind when Nicolay twisted the knobs and turned the shower on full blast. Frigid water pounded over her battered body, causing her to flail and scream, sputtering for breath, as the forceful spray brutally bit into her bruised skin.

Leaning forward, squirming out of the water, only for strong hands to push her back beneath the unrelenting pressure. Shivering, teeth clattering, doing her best to forget where she was. Trying to ignore the large hands that scrubbed over her body, scratching at her belly only to snake their way lower, and lower, making her clamp her legs shut; locking at the ankles, but when a hand clamped over her mouth and nose, she had no choice but to submit. Teetering on tippy toes, parting her legs so she could peek her head out of the water to catch her breath, only to scream when those fingers delved between her thighs and played with her feminine flesh.

"Hey!" Derek screamed; voice now hoarse, his wrists bruised from tugging on the cuffs. "Get your fuckin' hands off her! You bunch of sick fucks!"

"Lemme guess, you're a narcissist who never lived up to Daddy's expectations," Rossi growled, glaring at Dmitry – believing he would never forget Penelope's painful sobs; feeling the anger boiling over, needing to do something. "Is that it? Didn't get enough attention at home. Daddy beat up your Mommy, so you thought you could take it out on an innocent woman and feel better?" kicking at the cage, spitting his words. "You fuckin' piece of shit!"

Dmitry chuckled, reached behind him to shift through the files until he grabbed what he was looking for. Flipping it open, bright eyes scanning the paper, only to stand up and walk around.

"David Stephen Rossi. Born in Long Island, New York in 1956," catching Rossi's puzzled gaze, nodding his head to see if that was correct. "Been married and divorced three times. Your ex-wives are Carolyn, Hayden and Krystall," clucking his tongue in amusement. "You sure do get around old man."

Stopping in front of his cage, bright, dangerous eyes glancing towards Garcia, who was slowly losing the strength to fight against the two men. "Let's see what else," flipping a few more pages, "Ah, a former U.S. Marine and your specialty is in…hostage negotiation," glaring at his captive, only to snap the file shut and step closer. "Profiling won't help you here, Agent Rossi."

Turning around on his heel, tossing the file onto the table, he shouted over the pouring water. "Enough!"

The water shut off, and the room was filled with Garcia's broken whimpers, as they finally released her from the chains, only to drag her limp body over to the table.

"Your team is in trouble, Agent Hotchner," unfastening his belt, staring mockingly at the beaten leader of the BAU, only to grin when Alexei hastily snapped Penelope's bra off, leaving her completely exposed – forcing her arms to cover her chest at the men's heated gazes and low whistles of approval. "I've been thinking about those tits for months," turning back around. "Have you ever thought about them, Agent Hotchner? Hmm? Large, round set of perky tits that look nice under those pretty dresses."

Aaron frowned, and Derek's features darkened with disgust.

"I've always wondered what color they were," Dmitry's smirk grew. "A pretty pink. So, perfect."

"Oh, no answer?" shaking his head, eyes sparking with mischief. "That's gonna cost your analyst," slowly taking his belt out of the loops, only to fold it and snap it loudly in his tight grip. "My job is to see how strong of a team you have," grinning when Penelope's wet, naked body was bent at the waist over the table; wrists and ankles shackled, keeping her in place. "So I can break it."

"Oh my, god," came JJ's shuddering gasp, shaking her head, eyes spilling with tears as she watched her best friend struggle against the restraints.

"Jesus Christ," Emily shucked in a breath, biting the nail of her thumb – aggressively picking at the raw sore as she tried to remain calm.

"If you have a problem, deal with me," Hotch's booming voice, echoed around the stifling tension. "Garcia has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, the one who gathers all the information with her finger tips," he smiled – flashing his straight, pearly white teeth – walking towards the table to gently caress Penelope's swollen cheek and ugly black eye. "Has everything to do with this."

Turning her head away, only for him to grip her chin, fingers digging cruelly into her skin as he forced her to stare up at him. "But your team isn't entirely helpless, Agent Hotchner," taking his time to individually look at each of them; enjoying their terror-filled gazes. "You follow the rules. And this will be a lot easier."

Stepping away, he opened up another file and skimmed the information. "Shall we begin?"

Penelope gasped, feeling a calloused palm on her back, as hot breath caressed the crook of her neck. "Don't worry, Little Dove," Alexei whispered, so only she could hear. "I'll have you by the end of this," hand trailing lower to squeeze the soft globe of her ass – sending chills down her spine. "Many, many times."

* * *

To be continued…

Chapter Title – Purgo: Purge/Cleanse

Potoropis: Hurry up


	11. Fractus

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. I'm so sorry for the long wait, but please know that I appreciate your endless patience and wonderful support, and I shall be resuming my regular round of updates to all stories :)**

 **Story Warnings: Strong Violence, Sexual Situations and Coarse Language. Deals with an Assault and Sensitive Issues *If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read* Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter IV: Part III Fractus

 _"Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding."- Khalil Gibran_

* * *

A forced, immature game of rock-paper-scissors between herself and JJ, had led to a bleak victory of temporarily escaping the cramped confines of the cages. Standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by the taunting gazes of the men, whose unwavering determination was set on destroying their team, had a tendril of terror snaking down the spine of the normally composed woman – urging that habitual desire to gnaw on her blunt nails.

Dmitry walked up behind her, hot breath tickling the smooth column of her neck, as his hands grabbed her elbows and raised her arms out in front of her – letting the silver chain of the handcuffs shake and tug against the raw skin of her wrists. Clenching her jaw, narrowing her gaze, she focused her attention on calming her breathing.

"Oh, _Prentiss_ ," he hissed like a venomous snake trapping its prey. "I'm glad you won," wrapping his arm tightly around her waist, he shot his hand up, grasping her chin and forcing her to stare at the blonde behind the cage. "Because I don't think Agent Jareau would be able to handle it."

JJ's usually soft features were stone-cold, bright cerulean eyes swirling with conflicting emotions, only to flicker with sympathy at her friend.

Dmitry's deep, amused chuckle bounced off the cement walls, fueling the tension in the sterile space and encouraging the men, who were patiently waiting, to pounce. Abruptly releasing Prentiss, letting her stumble forward and closer to the metal table in the center of the room – the one which restrained a shivering Garcia.

Penelope finally lifted her head, face twisted in agony, but it was the lack of radiance in those beautiful hazel eyes – her glazed over expression distant and broken – that had Emily's heart thudding painfully in her chest. Those normally flouncy blonde curls – caked with blood, dirt, and bits of leaves – were soaked, falling flat against her bruised cheeks, that were streaked with tears and faded mascara. One eye was dark purple and almost swollen shut. And though the gash across her forehead had started to coagulate, it still oozed when her face creased with expression, proving it needed stitches. The deep laceration on her cheek and split lip, from Alexei's backhanded slap, were still bleeding and dripping onto the cool metal beneath her, making her sputter and gasp for breath.

Prentiss swallowed her parched tongue, fingers nervously winding together, only to catch Garcia's warm, reassuring smile. Her breath hitched and she rapidly blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. Leave it to Garcia to be stuck in such a dire situation and still be worrying about everyone else.

Steeling her shoulders with learned tenacity, she mouthed ' _It's okay_ ,' feeling only slightly better when the precious tech nodded in return. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Dmitry, only to find Katya standing right next to her, methodically twirling those thick raven curls between her nimble fingers. Though Prentiss was too busy staring at the silver and brass rings adorning her hands – aware that a punch from the jagged jewelry would certainly leave its mark.

"I'm also glad you won," her sickly-sweet voice cooed with delight. "I can't wait to see how long you'll last, before tears cover that pretty, little face of yours."

Katya stepped forward, resting a tight grip on Emily's slim hips, and whispered. "Classifying your emotions…burying them deep within you…only lasts for so long," cruelly digging her nails, leaving little, red half-moon marks, into the taut skin of her waist. "Especially when you're the one responsible for the pain…" giggling, lifting her other hand to gently tuck a loose, silky lock behind Emily's ear. "That you're about to cause."

Gritting her teeth, Prentiss bucked away, dark eyes spitting daggers at the taller woman.

Clicking her tongue in disapproval, the dangerous woman, dressed in form-fitting black, traipsed her way towards the table. Her severe golden-green eyes, like that of a feral feline, never left Emily's narrowed gaze, as she firmly rested a hand on Penelope's bare shoulder. Slowly dragging her sharp, cherry red nails down her back – scratching a path over the curve of her spine, only to trail a little lower, and squeeze the plump flesh of her ass.

Penelope hissed, mewling in pain, as she valiantly tried to squirm away, only for Katya to smirk and repeat the motion over, and over again – intensifying each time. It was obsessive, and eerily similar to the way an owner would caress a pet. It made Emily sick, and she could hear Derek mumbling underneath his breath, while fervently pacing behind his cage.

Dmitry reappeared leisurely walking towards the other end of the table to drop a large, aluminum briefcase onto it. Penelope strained her neck, squinting her eyes to figure out what was happening. Watching anxiously, as he licked his lips, and took his time spinning the dials of the combination lock, before swiftly opening it.

He then pulled out a black stun gun, and waved it playfully in the air. Pressing the button on the side, making the white-hot, buzzing pulse of electricity flare to life. Suddenly, the only sound over Emily's ringing ears were Penelope's terrified whimpers that seemed to ricochet around the cold, sterile room.

"Shh, Baby Girl…it's okay," Derek's voice was strained, as he did his best to soothe her fears. "Sweetness, look at me," came his gentle demand. "Penelope!" he growled, rattling his cage door – finally getting her attention, she looked up with big, fat tears streaming down her face. "There you go, Baby…just look at me, okay?"

She slowly nodded her head, easing her rapid breathing, only to choke on a sob, when Dmitry aimed the stun gun directly at her, letting the hot electricity surge once more.

Prentiss stepped back, as that looming feeling of dread swept through her body, and warning bells went off like blaring sirens would before a storm barreled its way to shore.

"Fuckin' hell," Rossi growled, cursing in his native tongue, when he quickly put the pieces together.

Dmitry released a hearty laugh, as he pointed the weapon at Prentiss and pretended to jab her with it. Shaking his head in amusement, he delicately placed the weapon onto the table, and then went back inside the shallow suitcase, only to pull out a leather whip. The ornate golden serpent handle had emerald eyes that menacingly glinted underneath the harsh fluorescent lights, and the thick black strips were tightly entwined together only to become viciously thin. And all it would take was a mastered flick of the wrist to leave damaging consequences across exposed skin.

"Which do you prefer?" Dmitry held the handle with ease, unraveling the leather and letting it kiss the cement floor.

Her mouth fell open, and her troubled gaze drifted back towards her team – searching, needing a way out, only to land on Hotch, who was firmly clutching the cage door, desperate to keep his aching body upright. His blood-soaked tank top was torn and covered in dirt, and his roughly stitched-up battered face, barely subdued his professional stoicism. However, his stern whiskey eyes were apologetic, and silently telling her what she already knew.

That out here, in the open cemented room. She was on her own.

" _Emily_ ," Katya sing-songed, as she went to stand behind a shivering Penelope. "He asked you a question," raising her hand, she sucked her fingers into her mouth, purposely wetting the long, pale digits. "So, I suggest you answer him," before cupping the intimate flesh between Penelope's thighs; making the tech cinch her eyes shut and buck against the table.

Prentiss bolted forward, eyes blazing, only for her ponytail to be snatched back by a brute force. Searing pain burst through her scalp, and she grit her teeth to stifle her scream – unwilling to give them any satisfaction in their sadistic game. Her hand shot up to grasp the angry fist of the man, before he could pull her against his solid chest.

Struggling – years of defense training kicking in – she quickly threw her arm up, effectively blocking his strong arm from wrapping around her neck. Nudging her elbow harshly into his side, she was getting ready to swing her heel back and slam into his shin, only to freeze when she spotted Katya roughly grab a fistful of Garcia's hair and yank her head all the way back.

Garcia's arms slightly lifted off the table, revealing the top swells of her bare breasts; eyes shooting wide open, when Katya wrapped her other hand around her neck, and tightly squeezed.

"Okay, okay!" Prentiss shouted, body going completely limp in surrender.

Dmitry tilted his head at the Unit Chief, clicking the back of his teeth, like a parent reprimanding a child, while gently running his hand over the knotted leather whip. "The women on your team, Agent Hotchner…don't listen very well. Do they?"

Hotch glared, and Dmitry shook his head, and snapped his fingers.

Katya's wolfish smirk grew, as she released the tight hold on Garcia's hair, only to cover her mouth and nose.

"You sick, son of a bitch!" Morgan growled – spittle flying from his mouth, as he gave the cage door a swift kick, rattling the heavy metal.

Penelope's muffled screams could be heard, as she frantically bucked and shook back-and-forth, fighting for breath.

"They're excellent Agents who follow orders!" Hotch's booming voice shattered the chaos, gripping the reins of his authority once more. "Though under this flagrant duress, it is altering their ability to focus."

Dmitry stared for a moment, scrutinizing gaze mulling over the words, only to shrug his shoulders and shout something foreign. Katya instantly ceased her movements, and released her brutal hold.

Penelope sputtered, fresh tears rolling down her face, as she quickly took in air to fill her deprived lungs.

"Now, Agent Prentiss…" slowly turning back around, Dmitry picked the stun gun back up and dramatically weighed both weapons in his large palms. "Which do you prefer?"

Bile rose in her throat, and tears blurred her vision. Feeling faint, she stumbled, earning an amused snort from Katya. The abrasive woman was now bracing her weight on her arms, while leaning over Penelope, whose body was rigid with fear. Her heated gaze staring straight ahead at Derek, giving him a coy, little wink, before peppering Penelope's back with overtly tender kisses. Frantically shaking her head, Emily allowed her mind to disappear from the sudden claustrophobia, as she basked in the limbo of fight-or-flight.

* * *

 _Tucked in the back room of a Parisian café, listening to a vinyl record continuously skip over the scratched album from her favorite rock band Siouxsie and the Banshees. Her chunky Dr. Martens tapped the slow, sonic rock tune of "Red Light" against the creaky hardwood floor, while her black chipped nails habitually fiddled with her old Union Jack Zippo lighter._

 _Tilting her head to the side, letting her curious gaze linger on the two females dancing in the corner. Their dainty feminine features piquing her interest, as she admired the beautiful swaying motion of their bodies together. Hands gliding over soft curves, teeth delicately nipping exposed skin, and silvery giggles echoing around the stuffy, smoked filled room, had heat pooling between her thighs and nipples puckering beneath her thin leather bra and black mesh shirt._

 _She was almost fifteen, and filled to the brim with pent up teenage angst. A rebellious streak that had led to many, many heated arguments with her mother this past summer. One more fuck up, and the sophisticated diplomat, who she had cheekily taken to calling Liz, was going to ship her bratty, punk ass off to military school if she didn't shape up. Rolling her dark, dour eyes, hating that it was already the last week of those beloved long, hot days outside, before the brittle cold swept through with responsibility and pretentious cotillion balls._

 _The seat next to her suddenly dipped and a long, lanky arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, ruining her sulking thoughts._

" _Ah, Emmy," came that lovely, familiar Spanish accent, his dark espresso eyes dancing with mischief. "You've been hiding from me!"_

" _Felipe," she purred, dropping her head into the crook of his shoulder, as she traced the frayed patch on his denim jacket._

 _He was the seventeen-year-old son of another ambassador. They had met earlier that spring and had been inseparable ever since – bonding over the constant moves and rigid lifestyle of their parents government work, finding kinship in exploring the strange, underground nightlife of Budapest._

 _He nipped at her cheek, and then took a languid sip of cheap pale lager, swishing the golden brew around, before resting it on the torn armrest of the brown Chesterfield sofa._

" _How is, eh…your Madre?" he quipped, waggling those bushy brows comically._

 _She snorted, reaching her arm over his lean waist to snatch the short liquor bottle. "Liz is…pleasant," chugging the rest of it down, before tossing it on the well-worn seat._

 _He chuckled, fingers playing with her short, crazy teased hair._

" _You know," flashing her a toothy grin. "You should try, eh…maybe some color, no?"_

 _Pursing her black painted lips and glaring through thick black eyeliner, she pulled away from him and swiftly punched his arm._

" _Maybe, eh…some blue or yellow," he teased. "No…no…pink! Bright, hot pink!"_

 _Growling, she shoved him across the long sofa, only to cross her arms. She really wasn't a fan of being told what to do. And Felipe knew just what button to press._

" _Im'a what you call it, eh...kidding," scooting closer to her, daring to rest his hand on her thigh – gently rubbing his fingers over her dark wine leather pants, carefully avoiding the intricate safety pins embellished over them._

 _Emily was just about to give him her typical sarcastic retort, when a group of young men emerged from the orange velour curtain over the back entrance. Recognizing the shaggy haired man, wearing a faded denim vest over ripped cotton and dark jeans, who placed a hammered serving tray on the cluttered wooden coffee table before them._

 _Her eyes went wide, mesmerized by the enticing light-green liquid swirling inside the reservoir glass. She knew instantly what it was, having been offered earlier that summer to drink the verte absinthe at a party that she had used her fake ID card to sneak into._

 _Felipe went stiff besides her, but she was already leaning forward, watching intently, as Jacques grabbed the slotted spoon with practiced certainty. It looked like a silver dagger, with intricate patterns cut out of it. Briefly wondering what it was for, only for Jacques to rest the spoon over the glass, and place a small sugar cube on top of it._

 _He glanced at Emily, his beautiful blue eyes glimmering with temptation, before lifting the carafe of ice water and then carefully pouring it directly over the dazzling white sugar. It began to drip, slowly distilling the spirit, turning the light-green color into a milky opalescent liquor._

" _We should go…" Felipe dropped his arm around her waist, gently urging her to stand up._

 _Though Emily was rooted to the spot, lost in the process that seemed to magically transform the alcohol before her eyes. Licking her suddenly dry lips. Oh, how she wanted a taste. Needed it._

" _You want some, beautiful?" his polished English, letting her know that he wasn't from around here._

" _Emmy," Felipe spoke, already shifting to get up, only for another man – one who was standing behind Jacques, to pull a small silver revolver from his dark blue and green windbreaker, and point it at them._

" _You can drink the whole thing?" Jacques purred, lifting the glass, letting the warm lights from the beaded lace lampshades flash shadows across their dirty faces. "Don't be scared."_

 _Emily heavily swallowed, arduously glancing from the drink, to the gun, to Felipe's panic-stricken face. Feeling her bravado slip from her fingers and pool at her feet, leaving her cold and scared._

 _She started to shake her head, only for Jacques to narrow his gaze and tsk in frustration. "You come to my place to act like an adult," placing the drink down in front of her, only to swiftly grab her lighter from her shaking hands. "It's time to stop playing pretend."_

 _Rolling his thumb over the spark wheel, raising the warm flame, revealing the glistening tears hidden in her dark chocolate eyes. "Drink it."_

" _No," shocking herself with the finality in her voice. "I don't want to."_

 _The revolver was raised to Felipe's head, the hammer cocked, clicking the bullet in place._

 _ **Military school. You won't see your friends again. Do you want to see that disappointing look on Liz's face? God, why was she such a fuck up…**_

 _The taunting words raced inside her mind, quivering her bottom lip, even as she straightened her shoulders with defiance._

" _Just let us go…" she stated, schooling her expression into indifference. "And we won't come back."_

" _Drink it…" rising to his feet, pulling a joint from his pocket and lighting it. "Or we hurt your friend," taking a deep inhale, and then releasing through his nose._

 _The foul-smelling Tobacco billowed over them, fueling the suffocating tension in the room._

 _She grabbed the glass, sloshing the pretty liquor all over her hand, before quickly guzzling it down. The sweet-bitter absinthe burned the back of her throat, opening her lungs, as she sputtered for breath._

 _Nearly dropping the glass, she slammed it on the table. "There…you happy?" standing up proudly, only to sway and then vomit._

 _Embarrassment washed through her, cinching her eyes shut – trying to temper the heat flushing her face, only to be wracked with another repulsive wave of nausea._

" _Fuck!" Felipe bolted up, wrapping a sturdy arm around her waist._

" _You've made a mess," Jacques took another angry puff, before flicking the joint at Felipe's head. "Now pick it up."_

 _Her stomach churned violently once more, and she somehow managed to empty the rest of its contents all over herself. Hating the feeling of warm, chunky puke sticking between her skin and mesh shirt._

" _Come on, we're going…" Felipe firmly held her against him, only to abruptly halt when the gun was pointed right at them._

" _It's your turn…" Jacques flashed his teeth, a maniacal sneer that would remain with her decades later. "If you can keep it down. We'll let you go."_

 _Felipe shook his head with uncertainty…and then all hell broke loose._

 _Emily didn't remember much afterwards._

 _Except for her blood-stained hands, from Felipe's busted face. Those piercing blue eyes, that had so easily struck fear within her. The lingering taste of burnt licorice on her tongue. And the five long rings from the payphone, seven blocks away, that it took before Liz answered. She broke into sobs, crying for her mother – needing her, wanting to be held and told everything was going to be okay._

 _That, was forever imprinted in her mind, etched into her soul, forever changing her view on the world._

* * *

"Stun gun," she rasped, taking a steadying breath, as adrenaline slowly coursed its way through her veins.

The electricity would hurt, but it wouldn't cruelly rip apart skin.

"Good girl," walking towards her, Dmitry's strong features relaxed with satisfaction.

Nicolay, who had her wrapped tightly in his sturdy arms, released her and stepped away.

Prentiss braced herself, tuning out the furious shouts from her team – preparing for the intense shock that would strike her body, only for the jolting pain to never come. When seconds seemed to coalesce into minutes, her eyes slowly fluttered open to find Dmitry holding the stun gun out in front of her.

"Go ahead…take it."

Deep frown lines contorted her face, as understanding finally swept through her. If she was wielding the weapon, then there was only one person she could be using it on.

Her horrified gaze landed on Penelope, who was already staring right back at her.

"No," shaking her head, feeling her blood turn cold. "I can't do that…"

"Oh, but you will…" Dmitry shooed Katya away, and took a domineering stance directly behind Garcia. "Shall we practice?"

Katya had already made her way around the table, meticulously thumbing her way through a random manila folder. "Let's see, let's see…" dragging her nail down the file. "Ah-ha!" looking up, those cat-like eyes glinting with excitement. "How about their last case?"

Dmitry simpered, looking pleased with himself, as he used his boot to tap Penelope's ankles – an unnecessary reminder that her legs were spread wide and still strapped to the table. It was a display of power, and he held it all in the palm of his hand.

Holding the whip at the point where knotted leather met the ornate gold, he used the tip of the serpent handle to trace the tech's curvy leg, from calf to thigh, and then over her ass and up her back. Gently rubbing the cool metal over the angry red marks scratched into her skin from Katya's nails.

Garcia whimpered, tugging on the restraints, only to look back up at Morgan, who was calling her name.

Dmitry caught their interaction; face losing all expression, he started to hum a tune – singing words that were foreign, but distinctly from a lullaby, as he dropped all his weight on top of Penelope, and salaciously pressed his groin into her bare ass – forcing her into the unrelenting metal table.

Lowering his head, hips still firmly rocking against her; he ignored the heated cries from the team, and licked the shell of her ear and then nibbled on the plump, little lobe. Letting his hot breath, a bad mix of booze and garlic, that wrinkled her nose in disgust, cascade over her.

"You better pray that your team plays along, Little Dove…" he whispered into her ear. "Or this is really going to hurt," smirking, he gave her cheek a sweet, lingering kiss, before placing the stun gun down right in front of her face and stepped back.

He glanced at Prentiss, brow arched in warning. "Pick…it…up."

Standing frozen in place, only for Nicolay to give her a harsh shove, making her stumble towards the man in charge and flounder with hesitation.

"Now," his voice was low, and commanding.

With trembling hands, she grabbed the sleek black metal, and held it down by her leg. The urge to strike one of the men with it, was tempting, but not wise.

"Okay, we begin…" Katya walked towards the empty wooden chair, which Reid had been strapped to earlier, and plopped down into it. Kicking her legs over an armrest, and crossing them at the ankles, she flipped through a few more pages and cleared her throat. "JJ!" she called out, staring at the blonde. "Who is responsible for the death of the SWAT team?"

JJ glared, manicured brows furrowed, as she stepped closer to the cage door. "That was an accident."

Katya dropped her head back, letting her raven curls dance around her shoulders, as she waited for Dmitry.

"Ah, Agent Jareau…sweet, little JJ," he cooed. "That's wrong, and you know it," glimmering emerald eyes glancing at Prentiss, only to nod at Garcia. "Go ahead, Emily."

Her hands shook, and she stuttered, unable to bring harm to her friend.

Penelope strained her neck to look back at her. "Em…it's okay," voice hoarse from exertion, eyes glistening with tears, but still managing a warm smile – a look of acceptance, that told her she wasn't to blame – which had a solitary tear slipping down Emily's cheek.

"Either you do it…" Dmitry hissed – letting the leather swing with precision from his tight grip. "Or I will…"

She waited just a second too long, and the intimidating whip was raised and lashed with force. The striking whoosh, followed by Penelope's strangled scream, shattered the silence of the cement room. The pale skin across her back, starting from her shoulder and ending at the flare of her hip, broke open, leaving behind a nasty red welt.

"I'm sorry," Emily quietly chanted, keeping her eyes glued to her friend's face – sending her comfort that had already been lost.

"JJ," Katya fanned herself with the file. "Let's try this again. You think you can do better this time?"

JJ nodded, silent tears streaming down her face.

"Good girl," came Katya's chipper praise. "Now, who is responsible for the death of the SWAT team?"

Her sorrowful gaze fell to her feet, quickly wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, before looking back up. "We are."

Katya kept silent, though the slight quirk of her overly glossed lips, told them that they weren't out of the woods yet.

Dmitry crossed his arms, head canted to the side, as he pretended to think over the confession, only to shake his head. "That's not quite right either. You can be more specific," taking another step back, he gestured towards Garcia. "Go ahead."

"Wait…no!" JJ started, hands clutching the cage.

Katya slowly shook her head, and held her index finger up. "One question. One answer."

" _Emily_ ," Dmitry sing-songed, flexing his wrist once more.

They stared at each other, both unmoving, only for Dmitry to raise his hand, but before he could strike, Prentiss pounced, holding the stun gun against Garcia's side.

"I'm so…sorry!" she choked out, before pressing the button and sending electricity shooting down Garcia's already broken body.

It was only a second, just a quick, little shock. Though it was enough to jolt Penelope off the table, as her mouth clamped shut and she writhed in pain.

"See, it's not so bad," Dmitry nodded happily. "Except, next time…you keep it there for five seconds. Or I'll make you do it again."

Three more times Katya asked the same question, and got the same answer.

Penelope was moaning, veins in her wrist bulging, as she gripped the heavy metal chain from her restraint – trying to remain conscious, as each shock was more brutal than the last.

"No…more," she whimpered, shaking her head, barely able to hear Morgan's encouraging words. "P-Please," voice a soft whisper.

Prentiss was biting her inner cheek. The stinging pain and bitter taste of blood, a small penance for the guilt that rested heavily upon her shoulders.

A beat of silence, and then Dmitry spoke, slowly pacing behind the table. "Does anyone else have a different answer?" critical gaze, observing the members trapped behind their cages.

They each remained silent, none of them aware of what exactly the man was searching for.

"Nobody, has anything to say?" waiting, and then without warning he quickly, viciously struck Penelope twice in the shape of an 'X'. Instantly breaking skin, the nasty looking welts bled – and the warm sticky liquid dripped down her back and over her sides. Her hiccupping sobs becoming a constant noise inside the claustrophobic room.

"If you wanna fuck with someone…" Morgan seethed, narrowed gaze spitting daggers. "Then you take it out on me. She didn't do anything!"

"Don't worry, _Derek_ , you'll get a turn," Katya teased, swinging her legs playfully back-and-forth.

"Ah, _love_ , it can be so…blind, Agent Morgan," Dmitry smirked. "Don't let it fool you, because little Miss Garcia here, isn't that innocent, now is she?"

"You want us to say…" Reid's quiet, but unwavering voice broke through the tense standoff. "That Garcia is responsible for the way the last case ended. You want us to blame her, for not figuring out where the bomb was located."

"Ah, Dr. Reid!" Dmitry tucked the whip underneath his arm, as he began a slow clap of appreciation. "You are correct…but you waited too long to answer. And now it's gonna cost her."

"Emily…" he barked, eyes dancing with mischief. "How many times did JJ…fail to answer the question?"

A long beat passed.

And then finally her timid voice broke the standoff. "Five."

"That's right," Dmitry nodded, tapping the heavy serpent handle in the palm of his hand. "You're getting better at this. Now, five questions times five seconds each…is how many?"

"Twenty-five…" manicured brows knit with confusion.

"Twenty-five what?" testing her, forcing her to state the punishment.

She took a breath, avoiding Penelope's tearful gaze. "Seconds."

"Very good," brushing a sleek lock out of his face. "Now, come here."

Her body flushed from hot to cold, feet becoming heavy, as she slowly got closer.

Pointing to the large overhead clock, crookedly hanging up on the far wall, he smirked. "When the second-hand hits twelve…you know what to do."

The red hand clicked and clicked, rounding its way around the nine, then ten…the hand holding the stun gun shook, as she hovered over Garcia, who was already shaking her head violently – unable to prepare herself for the hot, jolting pain about to hit her.

"No…no, no…please, no!" Penelope cried, rattling the chains against the metal table – desperate to crawl away.

Twelve…

Dmitry roughly grabbed Emily's wrist and slammed the gun beneath the soft skin of Penelope's ribs, and pressed the button. The pulsing current roared to life, sending her body into a spastic convulsion. She first jerked harshly to the side, trying to get away, but the restraints wouldn't allow it. She then bucked, forehead banging into the table, as saliva and blood dripped out of her mouth.

Emily frantically tried to yank her arm away, screaming for him to stop, only for Dmitry to wrap his other arm around her waist, pressing more weight onto her arm. Time seemed to sluggishly tick away, and her eyes flashed to the clock. It had made its way passed the six.

A keening wail could be heard, and looking back down, she saw Garcia's eyes begin to roll back – becoming eerily lifeless. Prentiss screamed, and then using all her weight, threw her elbow into Dmitry's chest, knocking the wind out of him – making him stumble backwards. She immediately lifted her arm away, letting the weapon slip through her listless fingers and clatter to the floor, as Garcia slumped against the table.

Shaking uncontrollably, wanting to reach forward and touch her friend, who remained unmoving – the only sign that she was still conscious was her labored breaths and eyes that slowly blinked – only for a gentle, tinkling stream to fill the deathly silent room. Eyes drifting lower, only to gasp when she spotted bloody piss trailing down Penelope's legs, to pool at her battered, dirty feet.

Her heart broke, oozing with guilt, and a weeping sob tore from her lips, as she blindly stumbled backwards.

"Oh, my God!" Emily cried, only for Dmitry to seize her waist and drag her back towards the cages. "No…Garcia!" she screamed, struggling – violently flailing against Dmitry's uncompromising force.

"Penelope!" Morgan yelled, viciously shaking the hinges on the cage door. "Baby…come on...Mama, look at me! Look at me, Baby Girl!" over and over, he called for her, only to get nothing in return. His choked ' _please_ ' twisted the knife lodged between her breasts, as Emily began to fight to compartmentalize the situation – desperate to remain afloat.

Slamming her into the cage door, pressing his elbow into her neck. "That's the spirit, you're going to need Agent Prentiss…to fight your way out of here," reaching into his pocket, Dmitry pulled out an old photograph and waved it in her face.

Emily froze, mouth falling open, as she stared at the photo – the one she knew had been taped on her vanity mirror, in her bedroom – only to clamp her eyes shut, when he cruelly crumpled it up and shoved it into her torn shirt pocket.

She took a shuddering breath, a futile attempt to will the tears back, only for her heart to split open at the ruined memory. A blurry snapshot of her and Felipe, smiling brightly, as they stood on the iconic Széchenyi Chain Bridge. It was from the night of their first exploration together, when they had been young, and blissfully naïve of the terrors in the world.

Dmitry chuckled, roughly patting her wet cheek. "Should have kept that in a safer place."

Before she could even think to ask if her friend was okay, he shoved her back inside her individual cage. Deciding to leave her without restraints, he banged the door shut and secured it behind her.

The rest of the men had already left the room, leaving only Katya behind, who was softly playing with Penelope's drying curls. They had a quick conversation together in their native tongue, Dmitry giving the team a slow perusal, before quickly unhooking Penelope's ankles.

Her legs dropped forward, unable to support herself. Then he released one arm, and then the other, only for Penelope to slip off the table and land on the floor in a loud thud. Giggling, Katya stepped over her naked body, and walked out the door.

Dmitry stared at Morgan, as he tapped Garcia's side with his leather boot and rolled her onto her stomach, only to leave her lying there in her own filth.

"We'll play again later," he called, only to turn around at the doorway. "So, get some rest," slamming the thick metal door closed behind him, as that heavy bolt clicked in place.

* * *

To be continued…

Chapter Title – Fractus: Broken/Crushed


	12. Luctus

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. I'm so sorry for the long wait, but please know that I appreciate your endless patience and wonderful support!**

 ****Also, thank you so much to everyone who nominated my other story _Cabaret with Chardonnay_ for the Profilers Choice Awards. It's up for: Best Het Romance! There are a lot of great stories out there, so please go check them out, and vote for your favorites! **

**Story Warnings: Strong Violence, Sexual Situations and Coarse Language. Deals with an Assault and Sensitive Issues *If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read* Thank you!**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Heart of Hades**

Chapter IV: Part IV Luctus

" _Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we live."– Norman Cousins_

* * *

He was hot, heavy, throbbing deeply inside of her with relentless force. Blunt nails bruising her smooth, porcelain skin as he angrily gripped her bare hips and guided her movements with controlled precision. Looking up, needing to catch his breath only to spot her doe-like eyes reflected in the dusty window across the room as they brazenly stared right back at him.

Despite the lewd smirk that contorted his normally soft features, he found little gratification rutting inside of her. The lack of shame in her wanton expression, pouty, glossed lips wide open and continuously releasing short, feminine pants of pleasure, made his skin crawl.

Though he couldn't deny the sliver of fascination that curled down his spine when the strong, domineering woman crumbled beneath his rough treatment. Relishing-no…thriving in the throes of fully submitting her body to a man. Yanking on the thick leather belt around her neck – treating her like the animal she wished to be; nothing more than a measly, worthless pet for his own personal use – was a degrading act, and yet, she undeniably loved every minute of their twisted game.

"Mmm," came her overtly seductive purr. "Oh, yes baby! Right there!"

Unlike most men, he was extremely picky – instantly becoming disgusted with the cheerfulness resonating in her tone. It was uncannily similar to a cheap porno. A fake, sleazy interpretation of what she thought he wanted to hear.

Entwining his large hand in her tangled, raven curls, he roughly snapped her head back – feeling the cool metal of her silver piercings biting into his cheek as he whispered into her ear. "I said…no talking."

A soft, amused giggle drifted over the springs, straining against their weight as she swiveled her hips back and eagerly clenched her inner muscles around his dick. "Hmm…guess I'm a slow learner."

A challenging taunt, he had no patience for. Slamming her head straight into the bare, dirty mattress, he pulled the belt, easily tightening it another notch – blocking her airway.

Those dainty wrists, bound to the brass bed frame, impulsively writhed in defiance as her bright cherry nails scratched – searching for something to grab onto, to ease the sudden constricting pressure. He would have rolled his eyes when the slick, sticky essence of her arousal slowly leaked down the backs of her thighs, if his balls hadn't already twitched in response.

"F-Fuck," she gasped, spreading her legs wider – greedily accepting more of him. "Yes, yes, yes…" she chanted through gritted teeth, contently wiggling her ass with each thrust.

His body trembled with aversion at her blatant carnal appetite. Failing to keep his dick hard enough to keep up pretenses that he was still enjoying the woman loudly moaning beneath him.

No, he had lost interest long ago. Her hair was too dark. Body too thin. She was a bitter, hateful soul wrapped in a cold exterior. Everything he despised in women – nothing he desired.

Swiftly wrapping the end of the belt around the foot board, effectively leaving her head pinned in place, he reared back – straightening his spine, only for his piercing blue eyes to absently trace the black vertical lines of foreign lettering inked across her shoulders. Though he wasn't raised in her country, his father was. His old man knew the Slavic language fluently, spoke it with such loving veneration, that he had no choice but to learn the basics. It wasn't much, but it was enough to understand that the bible verses etched into her skin held little relevance inside the confines of his sanctuary.

Growing bored, his eyes drifted downwards, briefly admiring the tattoo below the intricate words. Covering the taut skin of her lower back, was a vicious golden serpent with familiar emerald eyes that appeared to move with her every breath. It slithered around a black, indecipherable tree that was bare of any leaves, only gnarled branches that came to jagged points.

Though it was the creature's sharp fangs that engulfed a succulent pomegranate, tearing it wide open and sending the rotted seeds falling to the tree's roots – a symbolic depiction of lusting after knowledge – that had him momentarily transfixed. Placing his hand over the pretty design, reveling the contrast of his cold palm against her heated flesh.

"Mmm, yes baby…harder…please…" he could hear the coy smirk in her voice and his temper flared.

Wrapping a tight hand around her neck, savoring the way she morphed into a wounded animal – sputtering, whimpering as her lungs desperately fought for air – letting her suffer, before growling over her shoulder. "I am not your baby. You work for me, Katya. Remember that."

Releasing her, finding strength in her pitiful attempt to gain back any semblance of composure, he gave her a few more punishing strokes, only to suddenly slow his tempo and go completely still.

"No, no…" she cried, blinking away the thick tears that coursed down her cheeks, trying to move only to be held in place. "Please…Sir, please…don't stop!"

Her keening whine and fluttering inner muscles failed to evoke any sympathy, but drew an amused chuckle from his thin lips.

Ignoring her pathetic pleas, he turned his attention towards the monitors across the room. Narrowed gaze carefully scanning the images on each screen, until he found the one he was searching for.

The large monitor hanging above all the rest had security footage of the cement room playing recorded footage on a constant loop for this occasion. A dark glimmer lit up his eyes as his lithe body flushed with renewed yearning. Nostrils flaring, feeling his balls tighten at the exact moment Dmitry raised the whip and struck Penelope's back.

The curvaceous woman's cries were heartbreakingly anguished. The pain she was enduring, authentically captivating. A thrill of excitement prickled his skin, reminiscent of a hunter experiencing his first kill. It churned his blood into a white-hot pulse of molten fervor that instantly swelled his dick.

Hearing the team hopelessly scream for the torture to stop, he licked his lips and gripped Katya's slim hips as he thrust forward once more. Stroking deep within her slick flesh as he intently watched Penelope struggle to get away from the electric surge as Emily shocked her with the stun gun once more.

His movements became frantic, wild, nearly uncontrollable – passing the point of pleasure and barreling straight into raw abandonment.

"Wait…stop!" Katya groaned, frantically trying to wiggle away, only to be held in place.

Another breathtaking lash of the whip struck Penelope, perfectly tainting her fair skin a dark red, as her terrified screams ricocheted around the room. Her hiccuping sobs soon filled the space, and combined with the furious threats from the rest of the team, it quickly became garbled static over his cheap stereo speakers.

Twisting her head, Katya peered at the man lost in arousal behind her, only to follow his gaze towards the monitors and frown.

"Sir," she gritted out, frustrations mounting as she did her best to repress the flare of jealously that flickered with insistence, once she realized his attention had never been on her. And then, she took a risk. "Andy!"

The use of his nickname was jarring – forcing him to stumble to a halt. "W-What…did you just say?" he rasped, bright eyes clouding with disgust.

A loud slashing whoosh, followed by a dreadful wail from the monitor was his only response. Closing his eyes, he took a few, calming breaths before slipping out of her and rolling off the mattress. He untied the belt and released the restraints around her chafed wrists before grabbing his jeans and yanking them back on.

"Get out."

Muttering a slew of expletives, she sat up on her knees and glared. "I may work for you, _Andy_ …" drawing out his name as she slowly unhooked the belt, only to leave it hanging over her bare shoulders, swishing over her small, perky tits. "But don't forget you hired me to do a job. A job, I'm very good at," using her thumb to wipe away the lipstick smeared across her chin. "And without me, your little game with those Agents…means absolutely nothing."

Pulling the black cotton shirt over his head, stretching out the wrinkles, before taking a large step forward. "I highly suggest you don't pretend that you have nothing at stake," shooting a hand out to tightly grip her cheeks – digging into the soft flesh, pulling a grimace from her pretty face. "Especially, when you have so, so much to lose."

Releasing her, he turned on his heel with a refined agility and walked towards the other side of the room. Eyes flitting over the information taped to the wall, which he had spent years gathering – calculating his next step, only to turn his heated gaze onto the monitors that featured the live feed of the cement room.

Listening to the rustling of clothes as Katya finally began to redress, he rolled his neck and watched the action on screen. Not much was happening with the haggard BAU team since his last observation. Some members seemed to be restless with worry – pacing around their cramped confines. While others chose to sit and wait it out, clearly drained from the days harrowing events.

Nostrils flaring, he typed in a few commands and spotted what he was searching for. Finally awake, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she rocked gently back-and-forth, was Penelope. She remained seated in the same spot. That alone was a surprising development. He would have bet money on the fact that she would have crawled over towards the cages, seeking comfort from her misery, and yet, there she was facing away from her team, aptly avoiding their encouraging words.

Zooming in, until Penelope's battered face filled the entire screen. His breath hitched when he noticed the silent tears streaming down her swollen cheeks. Raising his hand, he carefully traced the contour of her face, and smiled.

How exciting it was to witness the first fissure break its way through the once resilient team. Feeling pride at having struck the heart first. For once you ruin the stabilizer, the foundation dismantles itself, and chaos ensues.

And he was thoroughly going to enjoy every single minute of it.

"Katya…" palming his aching dick, easing the tension through the button of his jeans. "Tell Dmitry to get ready."

* * *

His once sleek black hair was peppered grey. Taut tummy now drooped into a slight rounded belly, which he kept masterfully hidden behind fancy wool blazers. Knees weathered by fifty-five tumultuous years were too exhausted to support his weight any longer and he soon found himself regrettably sitting on the thin, filthy mattress.

Stretching out his weary limbs, David Rossi had to face the fact that he couldn't escape the inevitable misfortune of aging. So, rather than drowning in self-pity he decided to conserve the rest of his energy and use his time to assess the team. Letting his morose gaze leave the broken woman, still lying face down across the room, as he dared a furtive glance towards his right.

Since Prentiss had been shoved back inside her cage after being used as a pawn to torture Garcia, she seemed to have locked herself inside her own little world. Dark eyes distant as the gears in her mind worked diligently to compartmentalize. Angrily gnawing on her nails and her chapped lips, until they bled and she had to wipe it away with the back of her shirt. Rossi finally conceded after the fourth attempt of checking up on her, when she glared and then growled that she was fine. Though her defiant insistence easily revealed that she was anything but.

Not wanting to get caught, he shifted his attention towards his left, where a very tense Morgan remained standing. He was tightly gripping the cage door, silently fuming, while occasionally calling out for Garcia – hoping to wake her up, only for the tech to remain unmoving. Rossi's well intended, but poorly timed suggestion that he should sit down and rest, led to a short, heated argument which only JJ had the balls to stop. Her clipped tone, rare for the usually composed woman, was shocking and immediately shut them up. Giving one warning look, like a mother scolding an errant child, before resuming her slow pacing of the cramped confinement.

Taking a deep breath, Rossi twisted his stiff neck to face Hotch, who was awkwardly slumped against the cold cement wall, eyes closed – unable to fight off the lethargic effects of the unknown drug they had pumped his battered body with. His black eye and split lip looked painful, and his filthy tank top was such a stark contrast from his normally clean-cut suits, that it had Rossi cursing beneath his breath.

Daring to glance further down the row of cages, he soon came upon Reid. His fingers were nervously picking at the tight elastic wrapped around his wrist as he sat comfortably cross-legged, only to fidget and jab his thumb into the furrowed skin between his brows. Obviously tying to alleviate a migraine that he couldn't take medicine for. Eventually calming down, he sat a little straighter and continued mumbling to himself.

Rossi had initially zoned the constant noise out, until he realized that the young genius was intently counting Penelope's shallow breaths. It shook him to the core – each digit feeling like a grain of salt poured into a seeping wound – yet, the soft chant seemed to have soothed Morgan's shattered nerves, and for that Rossi was grateful.

Eyes now lingering on the cement floor, building up the courage to look at the woman he was having a whirlwind affair with. Gritting his teeth, he finally lifted his gaze and released a shaky breath. Curled up on the mattress, drifting in-and-out of consciousness was Erin.

Slowly perusing her body, pleased to see the wound on her thigh had finally stopped bleeding and that her chest steadily filled with air. Though she was suffering, she was still alive. And that little sliver of hope helped ease the guilt, which had been dormant beneath the surface of his anger all day.

Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back against the wall, doing his best to ignore the pungent smell around him, and simply listened. Letting the soft hum of the room lull his body into feign relaxation. Like the shuffling of shoes scraping across cement and fabric scratching skin when someone fidgeted. Or Hotch struggling to breathe through his broken nose as he finally surrendered to sleep, and then there was Reid's constant rhythmic counting. It was all constant chatter, that oddly became comforting.

That is, until a rough, gargled grunt filled the space. His eyes shot open without thought, and he instantly regretted it. Wishing he had another moment to spare the pain of watching Garcia wake up.

"Penelope!" Morgan shouted, unable to contain his elation of seeing her move. "Baby, can you hear me?" voice softer, but strained with emotion. He seemed to be bouncing on his toes, while his fingers white-knuckled the cage as if his soul could squeeze through the tight enclosure and physically be with her.

Garcia gasped, letting out a faint cry muffled by disoriented words, before she stiffly rolled onto her side and faced away from the team. Prentiss had already bolted to a standing position, eyes wide with concern, though she had yet to find the courage to step closer. Remorse, a heavy weight upon her shoulders.

" _Oh, God_ ," JJ's broken whimper yanked Rossi's attention off Garcia and towards the other blonde.

His brows furrowed as he watched JJ quickly spin around – drawing Reid's adept attention – and face the wall behind her. Her tiny frame violently trembled, hand roughly covering her mouth as fat, silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Rossi knew her sweet demeanor to be deceptive as she had proven time and time again that she was actually tough as nails. And though Garcia tended to be the mother hen of the group, JJ also had a strong maternal instinct. Very few things shook her to the core, so this sudden display of emotion meant something was terribly wrong.

Needing to look away, as if he had been burnt for impeding on her private moment, Rossi dragged his tired gaze back towards Garcia, and froze. His chest constricted, and his vision blurred when he spotted the thick, dark blood that was smeared over the tops of her thighs, dribbled down her bare legs, and pooled onto the cold, cement floor.

The image was hauntingly familiar, scalding him like boiling water would tender flesh. Breath became elusive as paralysis quickly settled over his body, forcing that poignant memory, buried deep within the dark recesses of his mind, back to the surface. Where he had no choice, but to face it.

* * *

 _Harsh moonlight filtered through billowing lace curtains as the stagnant heat of summer rolled around the room like a heavy caress. The whirl of the broken metal fan constantly shaking its rickety base, as well as the blaring sirens that zoomed by every half hour, kept his restless body from relinquishing his perpetual thoughts. Hating the sweat that gathered at the base of his neck and gratingly trailed down his spine, he hastily tossed the thin sheet over his bare leg._

 _Miserable, his eyes fluttered open only to stare at the mustard yellow wallpaper. A putrid color that clashed with the varnished mahogany furniture in the room. Though he really couldn't complain since this apartment was a temporary residence. Having recently moved back to the city, as well as being young and struggling to make ends meet, they had to compromise on this place until something more comfortable became available._

 _His lips quirked when his heavy gaze fell on the pretty bouquet of deep purple and soft pink peonies. It had been his I'm-sorry-I-forgot-our-anniversary gift of apology. She had stared him down, and then cussed him out, but Carolyn couldn't resist the lovely, albeit last minute sentiment – having eagerly smelled the charming fragrance, before rushing off to get a vase to proudly display them._

 _Though the modest floral arrangement reminded him of the heated make-up sex that had occurred afterwards. The new responsibilities of work had put him on edge recently and the petty argument that seemed to have lasted all week only fueled his anxiety. It was an exhausting seven days, but he was finally back in his wife's good graces – an anomaly amongst her wild mood swings._

 _Consumed by the lovely aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, and guided by the stirrings of arousal, he rolled over and scooted closer to his slumbering wife. Beneath the serene hues of blue her features appeared softer, and he took a minute to appreciate the fullness of her face. She thought she looked fat, though he knew it was a beautiful sign of her pregnancy. And he loved every stretched, luscious inch of it. He smirked, wanting to trace his greedy hands over the fullness that had swelled her breasts, hips, and calves. All soft curves that exquisitely cradled his body within hers._

 _Taking a deep breath, unable to resist playing with her dark hair, spooled like silk across the pillow. Tangling the auburn locks before finding a habitual twirl that soothed his nerves. Smiling when she slowly began to stir beneath his gentle touches, only to stop his movements when her angelic features hardened._

" _David?" voice a husky murmur as she brought her hand up to blindly caress his side. "Get…some sleep."_

" _While you're lying next to me, dolcezza?" gently running the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip._

 _Batting his hand away and giving an inelegant snort, she tried to roll over only for him to accept the challenge and slide an arm around her waist. Running his hand slowly up-and-down, from her now hidden ribs to the flare of her hip – enjoying the soft fleece of her baby blue nightgown. Lowering his head, he scraped the whiskers of his five o'clock shadow across her freckled skin, before peppering teasing kisses over her shoulder and along her collarbone._

 _Carolyn shot her eyes open, licking her dry lips – preparing to speak, only to grimace in pain and clutch his damp undershirt._

" _Hmm, what's wrong?" pulling back, propping himself up on his elbow to look down on her._

" _Nothing…" she panted, nose scrunched as her eyes darted around the dim room in contemplation. "I just…had a cramp. I think."_

 _David narrowed his gaze and lowered the sheet, revealing the old nightgown stretched over her very extended belly. Delicately rubbing his hand over the hard skin, hot beneath his touch, he did his best to inspect what still felt so foreign to him._

" _A cramp? Are you sure?" placing his palm over that familiar spot, patiently waiting for a flutter from a tiny foot or hand. "Do we need to go to the hospital?"_

 _Her index finger pressed into his lips, effectively silencing his concerns. "It's fine, Dave," giving him a smile that wasn't entirely sincere. "It's probably just gas. I mean, I've had bad heartburn all day from that pesto sandwich at lunch and…" words dying on her lips as she shifted away from him. "Oh…"_

" _Oh? What's oh?" furrowing his brows as her complexion paled. "Carrie? What's wrong?"_

" _I-I…think my…water just broke?"_

 _Releasing a slew of expletives that shortly eased into him fully shouting in Italian, before sense reared its invaluable head and slammed back into him. Yanking the sheet off her, his hand immediately dropped to her thigh and then to the bed only to be jolted by the warm liquid that greeted his fingers._

" _Carolyn!" screaming louder than intended. "Your water broke! This…this is it! We're having a baby," pure excitement seemed to have replaced his coherent wit as he scrambled to turn on the table lamp._

 _A multitasker at heart, he began to run through his mental checklist. Duffel bag – by the front hall closet. Keys – underneath the magazines on the coffee table. Checking his watch, it was almost three in the morning – traffic would be light; therefore, it would take less than fifteen minutes to get to the hospital. He was out of his element, barely staying afloat, but he couldn't help the fatherly pride that swelled his chest._

 _Almost falling off the bed and knocking her mother's antique lamp over, he finally hit the switch and doused the room in a blemish of warm gold. With a beaming grin plastered upon his face, he quickly turned around only for his heart to constrict at Carolyn's horrified expression._

" _Oh, dolcezza! Shh, shh…no, don't cry!" raising his hand to tenderly caress her face, desperate to ease her fears – that gnawing apprehension she purposely flung at him whenever she doubted his commitment to her. She had every right, after all he was the one who forgot anniversaries and birthdays. "Hey. I'm here, Carrie. I'm not leaving you. I promise. I'm going to be the best father to our little bambino," comically waggling his brows in hopes of cheering her up. He tucked a loose lock behind her ear, and went to lean in for a kiss only to go completely still when he spotted the blood smeared across her puffy cheek. "What…the…"_

 _The dark crimson was striking against her pretty porcelain skin. Jaw slack with disbelief he went to go wipe it away only to spot the strange fluid on his fingertips. It took but a moment before that sharp dagger of realization struck, and his confused gaze fell back to her lap. Where he discovered her blood-soaked nightgown. Bare thighs caked with the sticky substance that had dripped down her legs and pooled over the old floral sheets._

" _David…" she whispered; voice hollow, almost unrecognizable. "It's not my water…that's blood. I'm…bleeding…I-I…David, why am I bleeding?"_

 _He was a tough marine, trained to react in dire situations. And yet, all he could do was sit and absently nod as the acrid scent of iron wafted over him. Breath becoming ragged, ears growing hot, his mouth flapped open as he tried to find something to say. Something that didn't bring his worse fear to life._

 _That the child he had spent eight months thinking about – dreaming about a little face that had a mix of their best features – was suddenly in danger. And, yet somehow, he knew. Even without professional advice, he just knew. That he, a prideful man, had just lost something precious._

" _David! David…what do we do?" Carolyn's shrill demand did little to jar him out of his grief. "Dave…"_

* * *

"Dave!" Prentiss' strained voice broke through the haze of his mind, and forced him back to the present. "I think she's in shock."

"Carolyn?" he wheezed, groggily blinking as he teetered with reality.

"Who's Caro-…wait, your ex-wife?" her confusion morphed into concern when she spotted his ashen skin. "Rossi!"

"Huh?" licking his lips, wetting his parched mouth only to realize his mistake. Shaking his head, he quickly waved off her attention and sat forward. "What's wrong?"

Prentiss' hard gaze lingered for a moment, before she refocused. "She's been talking to herself for a while now," pointing to Garcia, now sitting up and hugging her legs. "And it's not…making much sense."

"What?" dazed, unable to shake off the memory of losing his son – a cruel reminder of his lost opportunity to say hello, which aggravated the festered wound that had never healed.

Fanning his shirt as anger slithered around him and he grew hot. Desperate to stop the downward spiral of pent up failures and focus on the positive instead. That God worked in mysterious ways. That something beyond his control took his son, but spared his wife that night. And then he frowned, remembering that it was then Carolyn who delivered the final blow and divorced him 4 years later.

Something wet slipped down his cheek and landed on the dirty lapel of his blazer. Swiftly, discreetly, wiping his face – hoping no one saw him trying to hide the meltdown that was brewing just below the surface of his diminishing patience.

"I…I can't see!" Penelope suddenly shouted, hands leaving her bruised calves to dance over her eyes.

Rossi accidentally spotted the large blood stain on the floor behind her and a cold shiver went straight through him and he needed to look away. Closing his eyes, he deliberately counted to ten, took a shuddering breath and caught Prentiss staring right back at him.

"Hey, you okay?"

He wasn't. Far from it. Though it didn't matter. His narrowed gaze was already on Garcia, watching her slowly rock back-and forth as JJ's poorly contained sobs filled the room. No. There were more important things to worry about.

"I'm fine," giving a curt nod, he finally stood up – hating the stiffness that had settled in his bones.

"We need…to get…her attention," Hotch panted, struggling to stand, fighting against the strong hold the drugs still had over his fatigued body.

"Garcia!" Morgan tried, voice becoming hoarse from his endless shouting. "Baby Girl?"

"Derek?" she whispered, going still as her head tilted to the side. "I-I lost my glasses."

"I know baby, they broke in the car," Morgan spoke softly, wanting to avoid upsetting her further.

"Oh…" out of habit she went to push her glasses back up her nose, only to sigh when she came up empty. "But…I need them."

"Sweetness, look at me?" a long beat passed, before Morgan took a deep breath and continued. "Hey Beautiful, come on I wanna make sure you're okay. Can you show me your pretty face?"

"They were my favorite pair," she pouted, letting her legs fall to the cement floor as she sat forward. "I saved up for three months to get them," her hand slowly drifted towards her lips, where she absently played with the swollen flesh. "I mean…everyone knows people look at your eyes first. And those were hot pink, bedazzled, and made a statement."

"I loved them, too," Morgan smiled, shoulders relaxing just slightly. "You wore them on our first date remember? With that pretty purple dress."

"Wait…what!?" Prentiss recovered first, finding her voice from that Freudian slip which had sucked the air right out of the room.

An admission from a man worried about his lover.

"Fuck," Morgan muttered under his breath, dropping his head to rest on the chain-link fence that surrounded him as his eyes cinched shut in defeat.

"You two…are dating?" JJ had stopped crying, hastily wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She stepped forward, though her bright blue eyes held little excitement over the news.

In fact, she looked almost heartbroken. A deep sorrow that Rossi instantly recognized. For he had seen it many years reflected in Carolyn's worn, sullen face. He tried to catch JJ's attention, wanting to send the blonde a comforting smile. Something to relieve the pain, but her focus was still on Morgan.

Though before anyone could answer, Penelope broke the tension with the dramatic flair she had mastered long ago.

"Why is there blood!?" she gasped. "I have blood on me…" hands disappearing between her thighs only to raise them beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. "Is it my blood?" she whispered, carefully examining her stained fingers before bending forward and staring at the floor. "It is my blood. Oh…oh, I'm bleeding. Oh, I'm bleeding…a lot!"

"Baby, look at me…" Morgan spoke up, desperate for her attention. "Penelope!"

"Why am I bleeding?" her hands frantically rubbed over her body, only to start scratching her chest and tummy. "Why am I…naked?" her voice broke; sounding like a lost little girl, confused and in pain.

"Garcia!" Rossi abruptly yelled, eyes having fallen to the floor – where crimson soiled cement. And then like a buzzing gnat that wouldn't go away, his heart split and oozed with that monstrous remorse. Nausea swept through him as that bitter iron smell swept across the room and he had to clutch the cage in front of him to keep from tripping over his feet. "Penelope!" swallowing his heavy tongue as he took a risk. "I need you to listen to me okay? We don't know when those men are coming back. And we want to help you before they do. Do you understand?"

"What!?" she sat up, hair flying around her shoulders as her eyes darted around the room.

"You don't want us to worry do you?" boldly ignoring her fears for her best interest. "If we're worrying about you. We can't focus on finding a way out of here," steeling his shoulders. "Remember, inside this room we need to follow the rules. If we don't, they're gonna hurt us."

"Hey man!" Morgan glared, slamming his palm into the cage next to Rossi's head. "Ease the fuck up! She's scared and in pain. She doesn't know what's going on."

"I-I…I'm sorry…" Garcia wailed, dragging her legs back up for protection. "I-I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, Garcie…" JJ's loving voice; soft and nurturing, a tone she often used on Henry, called out to her. "Sweetie it's okay. Just please come over here."

"I don't have my shoes," Garcia sniffled, digging the palm of her hand into her eyes, as her other arm clutched her belly.

"Don't worry, we'll get you new ones," JJ smiled, face becoming stern with determination. "We can go to your favorite boutique and get those lime green ones you wanted last time."

"I have a headache…" gently swaying her body, a soothing tempo that seemed to calm her nerves. "And my belly hurts."

"If you come over here," JJ reasoned. "You're gonna feel better."

Another excruciatingly long moment passed, before…

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay," giving a short nod as her arms tightly wrapped around her chest. "But close your eyes! I don't want any lookie-loo's, sneaking a peek at this Oracle," managing a familiar quip through the chaos.

"No one's lookin' Baby Girl," Morgan growled. He didn't mean to, but he was on edge and wanted to salvage the rest of his girlfriend's dignity. "I'm right here, okay. You just need to walk a few feet to me."

Instantly dropping his gaze to stare at the scruff marks on his shoes, Rossi intently listened to Morgan's encouraging words and Garcia's sharp hisses of pain as she limped her way towards them only to collapse in front of Morgan's cage in a crumpled heap of exhaustion.

Rossi hadn't meant to look, but he had to make sure she was okay, only to blush when his eyes accidentally fell upon her heaving chest. He was a man, a virile man, who had a fond admiration for curves. So, he couldn't stop his dick from taking notice of her large, lily white breasts and furled petal pink tips. Gulping, he swiftly turned around, roughly pinching the bridge of his nose as he admonished his inappropriate thoughts.

Prentiss shook her head, giving him a pointed look that made him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

"What's wrong?" Morgan's voice barreled through the sudden claustrophobia, as he tried to jam his fingers through the fence to reach Garcia. His fingertips only a few teasing inches away from her. "Baby, talk to me."

"I don't…I don't feel good," she whimpered, holding her belly as she curled into a fetal position.

"Reid what's happening?" Prentiss barked, eyes misting over as her guilt came surging back.

Spencer kept his gaze glued to the floor, fiddling with a torn button on his vest as he struggled to give an answer that wouldn't hurt his friend. Though, he needn't worry as JJ's knowing words filtered through the tense room.

"She's having a miscarriage."

To be continued…

* * *

Chapter Title - Luctus: Sorrow/Mourning


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